I Want to See Your Smile Again
by The Lesbian Gavinners
Summary: Really, Kristoph Gavin is the last thing Apollo wants back in his life. Klavier may insist, but it seems like the visits to his jailed brother are slowly destroying him- again. Although, between Klavier's breakdowns and how he's acting, things around Apollo are only making less and less sense. Something's off here- and Apollo intends to find out exactly what. Cover creds to Nessie!
1. Chapter 1

**ayyyyy**

* * *

Apollo drums his fingers on the side of the car, leaning back into the seat and groaning. He's always been patient, especially when he's waiting for something as serious as this, but he's really starting to wish he'd brought something to do. It feels like nothing has even _moved_ since Klavier left, slamming the car door behind him and sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to tell Apollo that _he'd be back in a second, ja?_

Apollo's getting antsy- although, to be honest, who wouldn't be, in this situation? A prison parking lot doesn't really inspire a slowed heart rate. It's far from a deserted island beach, that's for sure.

Apollo turns his head to look out the window, because really, there's nothing else to do. It hasn't changed. It's the same near-deserted rows of parking spaces, same sparse trees all around in a desperate attempt for scenery. Nothing interesting has happened since the sun set, and even that had a very limited entertainment value.

Although, if he tilts his head just right, Apollo can see a reflection of himself in the window. He studies it, frowning, and his hands immediately go to comb the stray brunette hairs falling on his forehead. Goddamnit, this is what _happens_ when Klavier "borrows" too much of his hair gel!

Speaking strictly about the morning routine, the man was a royal pain to live with. Even if Klavier _didn't_ feel like kissing Apollo awake the moment he himself woke up, his various hair and beauty products are loud enough to do the trick. Not to mention how _early_ he woke up, in order to get himself ready. Some days he was awake before the sun was up (which translates to: _far too fucking goddamn early,_ in Apollo's book). Although, Apollo has to admit, there was something to lying in the sheets, watching Klavier curl his hair with a lazy smile. He's very watchable, in his fluid movements, his shiny gold hair and his irresistible smile.

Apollo frowns at his reflection. He can't stop his eyes from looking widened, like a deer caught in the headlights, alert as though he's being hunted. It looks weird, especially since _he's_ not really the one who's in trouble here. If anyone has the right to be worried, it's Klavier.

Apollo really wishes Klavier didn't feel the need to visit his brother. After all the bastard's done, they really don't owe him _anything._ But Klavier insisted, so here Apollo is, a shoulder to cry on to the very end.

Apollo sighs and leans forwards, facepalming into the steering wheel. He just wishes that- _fuck that's loud he hit the horn!_

The horn is screaming, and Apollo jerks backwards, shushing it as though it can hear him. _Fuck,_ does everything have to go wrong today? Klavier and Apollo are on edge as is, they really don't need clumsy mistakes like this.

Apollo looks around to make sure that no one saw him. The parking lot is empty, thankfully, and he gives a sigh of relief. He isn't sure if he could deal with judgmental stares right now. It's hard enough to anticipate the aftermath of the Gavin brothers' meeting, the tears he'd have to wipe away and the self worth he'd have to rebuild.

 _Fuck._ Apollo _really_ wishes Klavier wouldn't see Kristoph anymore. It's the first time after the Misham trial, sure, but really, did Klavier _ever_ have to see Kristoph again? Apollo doesn't want to call his boyfriend _fragile_ , he deserves some credit after all he's been through, but Klavier really doesn't need Kristoph's influence right now. Apollo can still remember what it's like to see him every single day, the cold smiles and patronizing remarks hidden in the guise of politeness. It's nerve-wracking, to say the least.

As for Klavier… Apollo takes a deep breath. He's getting better, but considering where he was before, _better_ isn't really saying too much. He has less nightmares now, though, he sleeps through nearly every night and doesn't lie about how bad it was the next morning. He's starting to accept that Apollo can love him, he's starting to see that it's alright to mess up and that it's alright to _be fucking human._

Apollo's fists clench. He's still very pissed about this, and he probably will always be. Klavier deserved ages better than what Kristoph gave him- and probably ages better than what Apollo is giving him now- but _still,_ he definitely didn't need to be groomed into a fucking mental case about perfectionism. Kristoph was characteristically shrewd when he dealt with Klavier, carefully choosing his reactions and words- because Klavier feels like everything he does is for Kristoph's sake, for some little bit of praise or recognition that's _never fucking coming_. It's a brilliant system- Klavier works himself to the bone for Kristoph's recognition, for some tiny ounce of _love,_ and all Kristoph has to do is not give it- all he has to do is _nothing at all._

Apollo slouches in the car seat, arms crossed. It's been too many years since Kristoph's had his claws in Klavier for Klavier to be worried about what Kristoph thinks, that's for sure. Apollo _really_ wishes that he never had to think about fucking _Kristoph Gavin_ again.

It's only then, in the moments of frustration and irritation, that Apollo notices how _quiet_ it is, all around him. It's not the calm kind of quiet, either. It's the _sticky_ kind of quiet, when everything is muffled into foreboding and anticipation. It's the calm before the storm, Apollo realizes, and his fists unclench.

He isn't sure he wants to know what's coming next.

* * *

 **aight it's been too long since I've done a multichapter thing lezzgo**

 **amazing update time! the new cover is fanart by Nessie McCormick, an actual goddess on Earth. Check her and her seriously awesome art out, it's breathtaking. You won't regret it! (until you start crying because wow this and the Gavin angst god damn it)**


	2. Chapter 2

**l m a o**

* * *

"Hey!"

Apollo sits up again, grinning. It feels like forever since he's seen Klavier, and even longer since _anything's_ happened at all. His heart had skipped a beat when the door opened, and another when he saw Klavier stepping out- because _finally,_ he could stop worrying like crazy. The longer Klavier stayed, the more time Apollo had to formulate ridiculous fictional plans for Kristoph to hurt him.

Apollo had scrambled for the window, fingers slipping, and rolled it down instantly. He's really been missing Klavier.

Klavier doesn't respond. It's harder for Apollo to keep up his smile when Apollo gets a good look at him- because _fuck,_ Klavier looks _awful._ His head hangs like _he's_ the one convicted of murder, arms dangling limply by his sides and feet shuffling on the pavement. If Apollo had to draw a picture of the word _exhausted,_ this would be it: walking listlessly, as though he'd given up on everything with no way out. Apollo's breath catches. This is exactly what he was afraid of.

Klavier opens the car door, face still fallen, and sits down in the passenger's seat before Apollo can say anything else. He sighs, and for a moment, his whole body is sighing. His shoulders raise and fall, his lips purse, and his brow furrows, like he's in physical pain. Apollo can't stand the sight.

Apollo schools his face, even though it takes some effort not to clench his fists. He can't show Klavier that he's angry, that might startle him, but _god damn it._ He'd seen this coming from a mile away! He'd _known_ that Klavier seeing Kristoph was a bad idea, he'd _known_ that Kristoph hadn't changed a bit; he'd _known_ that Klavier would only get hurt again.

Still, now isn't really the time, and Klavier looks like he's on the verge of tears. That's the more pressing matter at hand; unless Apollo wants to run in and punch Kristoph in the face- actually, don't tempt him. He might.

Apollo reaches a hand out, and his face twists at the sight of Klavier like this. He's never really gotten comfortable seeing Klavier vulnerable like this, especially since Klavier seems to hate it. He hides how he's feeling no matter what, with a smile and some lame German comment. It's difficult and trying to get him to admit anything, especially if it's hurting him, or if it's about Kristoph- and if Kristoph was hurting him, well, you're screwed. You'd be lucky to get a telltale blink.

Apollo wants to touch Klavier's face, a light hand to remind him that it's okay, Apollo's here and he's real, but little steps usually work better with Klavier. Apollo lets his hand drop to Klaviers', running his thumb over the skin. He squeezes gently. "W-are you ok?"

Klavier turns his head to look Apollo in the eyes, and he's smiling. How did Apollo expect anything different? "Ja, I'm fine, schatz."

"H-how'd it go?" Fuck. Apollo didn't _want_ to be forwards like this, but he can't help himself. He has to know what happened.

Klavier laughs, and it cracks a little. It sounds hopelessly forced. "As well as you'd expect."

Apollo frowns. That means _really_ bad, and Klavier knows it. But… Klavier's not exactly volunteering information, only that it was bad. Apollo _knows_ that he doesn't want to talk about it- Klavier never wants to talk about _anything_ like this- but it's necessary for Apollo to understand to help. They've been over this.

Although, a little voice in Apollo's head interrupts- one that he wishes would just shut up- maybe Klavier doesn't _want_ help.

Apollo shoves the thought away. They're not going back there, not now. Besides, Klavier looks better now. He's smiling at Apollo, with the little quirk in his smile that Apollo's learned to read as adoration. His gaze has softened, and he almost seems remorseful, like it's one of his final chances to do something.

Apollo's breath catches. Right back to _that_ subject, he supposes. He really hopes Klavier isn't thinking anything along the lines of- fuck; he doesn't even want to think the word. It feels like a jinx. Suffice it to say, they've been there before, and Apollo will kill Kristoph if he pushes Klavier back to _that_ place.

Apollo shudders at the very thought. There aren't words to describe how _hard_ it is, to convince someone to live. It's so hilariously difficult to sell something he doesn't understand himself, something he knows they'll never understand- but god damn it all if him and Klavier can't get it through life together.

He returns Klavier's smile, which is looking more genuine by the second. Apollo's glad Klavier's rebounding already- or, at least, it seems like it. It can only get easier from here, right?

Klavier laughs, leaning over, and Apollo's face scrunches up- _what?_ Uh… is he hysterical? This isn't good.

Klavier only meets Apollo's worried stare after he's caught his breath. "Well, schatz? Are we going to sit here forever?"

"Oh." Apollo can feel his cheeks burning. Right. Apollo's the driver. The car isn't going anywhere until he starts it.

Apollo starts the car, and it rumbles to life nearly immediately. He can see his red cheeks in the rearview mirror, and the sight only makes him blush more. Klavier's laughter rings in his ears as he pulls out of the parking lot, and Apollo resists the urge to tell him to shut up.

Klavier loves Apollo's blush. He always has. He says it's the main reason he teases Apollo, to see him flush and stutter. It's a treat, Klavier says, to catch Apollo off guard, to see the unfiltered Apollo Justice.

Apollo tries to mask his sigh. It feels like too long ago, back when all he knew of Klavier was the shiny German rockstar who never stopped flirting. Don't get him wrong, that is very Klavier, but it's such a small part that he can't believe it's what Klavier constantly displays. The man is actually quite thoughtful, sweet and strangely vulnerable. The confidence and ego are inflated, that's for sure.

It's silent in the car as they're driving home, and Apollo is thinking back to the parking lot. Yeah, this feels too similar to the silence of the parking lot for comfort. Apollo can't shake the feeling of foreboding, like something big is coming.

Klavier is being more quiet than most of the world would have thought possible, staring out of the window without a single word. Some glimmerous rockstar he is. It's almost somber, the way he stares, more like he's thinking than looking at anything in particular. He doesn't react to any of the sharp turns or honks (Apollo isn't the best driver), and Apollo knows to leave him alone. Prying too much would only hurt things now, he needs Klavier to mull things over and get a grip on things before Apollo asks him about it again.

A light flashes on the dashboard, and Apollo sighs in frustration. They're low on fuel. He was bored enough to notice it before, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Klavier, even if it was for two minutes just to get gas. Klavier needs every ounce of his support right now, there's not much else Apollo can give him.

Apollo turns into the first gas station he sees, and Klavier doesn't even glance at him. It feels out of place, like they're in some odd limbo pretending to be their usual life. Usually Klavier's attentive to the road, even if he's not driving, piping up about every route Apollo chooses. But then again, _usually_ he's chattering nonstop in the car. He loves to talk to Apollo, even if it's not really about anything. It's comforting, the way he rambles on, content to just be around Apollo.

Of course, that's on good days. Days when the two of them can smile together, pretending Kristoph didn't exist. Days when Klavier feels good, when Apollo feels good, and the healing seems like it's working.

Apollo slams the door behind him when he gets out of the car. God _damn_ it all.

He thinks he catches Klavier wincing at the noise, and he makes a quick apology that Klavier can't hear through the closed door. Not that it seems like it matters, Klavier's gone back to staring in silence. Something is really bothering him, he seems _visibly_ exhausted.

Apollo plugs in the pump, shoving his hands into his pants pockets and sighing. He'd known that this would be hard, but this is more than he expected. They'd gotten through harder, though. At least now he'd convinced Klavier not to lie to him, and not to cover up his feelings. Privacy is one thing, but what Klavier had been doing at the start of their relationship… that was just unhealthy, and the second his shiny, bubbly exterior cracked, it all came crashing down. Apollo hadn't given up on him, though. He'd wanted to see Klavier smile again. Genuinely.

It's all paying off, now. Apollo isn't invulnerable either. He didn't escape from Kristoph unscathed; at least according to Klavier and Mr. Wright, his perception of his own self-worth took a real beating. Apollo does understand what's happening to Klavier, more than his boyfriend seems to realize. Kristoph had been Apollo's boss, had been the person raising Klavier, and he'd made sure he controlled each of their perceptions of themself. They were easier to manipulate, that way. It's hard to run away when you don't value yourself enough to think you deserve anything but pain.

They can help each other, now. They lean on each other when it gets hard, and they pick each other up when it feels impossible. Neither one of them wants to let the other go like this, that's for sure.

Well, that's enough sentimentality for now. The tank is full. Apollo takes out the pump, hanging it back up. He can see Klavier, slouched in the passenger seat of the car. His eyes are closed, like he's trying to fall asleep, but the contorted face says otherwise. He looks like he's in pain.

Apollo knocks gently on the window. "Hey."

Klavier jumps at the sight of Apollo, cracking the window open in a hurry. He's acting like he's been caught doing something wrong, and it makes something in Apollo's stomach churn. He doesn't have to punish himself for feeling bad.

Apollo bends down to the window's level, hoping his smile is a comforting one. "You still okay?"

"J-ja. Oh, _Apollo,"_ he says, shaking, and Apollo thinks that Klavier's laughing until he hears the sniffle.

Apollo tries to keep his eyes from widening, but it's hard to hide his surprise. He's really caught Klavier off guard, if Klavier's nearly crying. Fuck, he doesn't know what to do- leaving it alone is leaving it with the Kristoph in Klavier's head, and forcing Klavier to talk drives a wedge between them. It's lose-lose, and at this point, he might as well flip a coin.

Apollo walks over to the other side of the car, and he can hear Klavier rolling his window back up. He guesses he can leave it alone for tonight, to let Klavier calm down. They have to talk about it eventually, and he hopes Klavier understands that. Apollo's spent so long trying to convince Klavier that he can talk to Apollo, that Apollo will listen and try to help no matter what. Keeping all of this bottled up like Klavier likes to only makes the inevitable explosion all the more destructive.

Apollo pays for the gas, somehow keeping himself from sighing when he sits back down in the driver's seat. No one _said_ that this was going to be easy, but it'd be goddamn nice if life wasn't on expert mode all the time.

The rest of the ride home is- surprise- completely silent. They pull into the garage, and Apollo resists the temptation to ask Klavier if he's okay again. He _knows_ what the answer will be, and knows what the truth is, but he wants Klavier to admit it. The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?

Apollo doesn't say that, though. He just leans over, taking Klavier's hand and squeezing it, smiling. "I'll start dinner, okay?"

Klavier nods, swallowing. Apollo decides to leave it at that, and get out of the car. It's kind of late for it, but eating can only help Klavier at this point.

Of course, that does mean that Apollo actually has to cook- and with him, it's an ordeal. He can, uh, he can probably make grilled cheese? Could he use the Panini maker to do it? That's a thing, right? Not quite a _dinner_ thing, but it's food, right? Edible stuff?

Apollo runs through the possibilities as he walks through the house- he's not good at soups, and he burns things easily. He's a bit of an awful cook, if he's being honest.

He walks past the grand stairwell in the foyer, the living room, and a couple of hallways before he makes it to the kitchen. Apollo opens the fridge, making a face at the food. Klavier likes takeout, and he's rich enough to eat out wherever and whenever he likes- so usually they don't cook for dinner. As a result, Apollo's become quite proficient at breakfast foods, and sometimes lunch- but only those. His highest achievement is a really nice omelet from a few weeks back- yes, it might have burned Klavier's mouth, but it was pretty good once it cooled down.

All this being said, he didn't have a clue where to start when it came to dinner.

* * *

 **ripperino this thing's gonna go a little slow.**

 **thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**whelp here's the next one**

* * *

It's a few minutes before Apollo decides _fuck it,_ today's been stressful enough already, and tosses a hunk of cheese and some bread onto the counter. Grilled cheese it is, then. Klavier's sophisticated billionaire rockstar palette will have to compromise, it seems.

Apollo's starting up the Panini maker when he hears laughter behind him. It's not mocking, more amused than anything, and far too familiar. Apollo turns around to face it. Lo and behold, there's Klavier, leaning against the counter, hip jutted to the side and blonde hair falling into his face.

"Need some help?" Klavier asks with a smile, and for a second, life feels normal. He's snapping his fingers, nodding his head to a beat only he can hear.

"I think we both know the answer to that one." Apollo huffs. He knows what Klavier's doing. He'll play along.

Klavier's smirk widens, and he gets off of the counter, hands on his hips and leaning in. "Then we'll try something simple, ja? Just you and me."

Quite frankly, Apollo doesn't have an idea how Klavier's flirting over making dinner, but he isn't complaining. This is the classic rockstar Klavier, and as far as comforting things go, it's pretty nice. Klavier may be speaking in lame song lyrics now, but this has got to be better than silent Klavier, right?

Klavier walks over, opening the freezer and reaching past Apollo to grab a bag of meatballs. "It'd be quite the achievement for even you to ruin pasta, nein?"

"H-hey! Watch it!" Apollo whirls around, and Klavier is already reaching for a pot, the ones that hang in a rack over the counter. Apollo is fuming. He can't let Klavier belittle his nonexistent culinary skills like this! "That was uncalled for!"

"Get the pasta, will you, schatz?" Klavier turns his head to ask sweetly, as though he hasn't just insulted Apollo. Apollo just crosses his arms, making a disgruntled noise.

"Only if you shut up, first." he mutters. This makes Klavier turn around completely, pot in hand, and step closer to Apollo with a smirk. Apollo sees his mistake the closer Klavier gets, and he can't believe that he fell for this- but this point; Apollo knows that resistance is futile.

If Apollo ever needed any proof that Klavier was the most clichéd being on the planet, this is it. Klavier leans in, quirking an eyebrow.

"Make me."

Apollo doesn't like how he has to tilt his chin upwards to face Klavier at this distance, but he can make do. He raises an eyebrow back, although his is more exasperated. "You know, it's kind of hard to take you seriously with a pot in one hand and a bag of frozen meatballs in the other."

"Ach. You have no romance in your soul, schatz." Klavier chuckles, tapping the pot against Apollo's forehead lightly. Apollo mock scowls, turning towards the pantry.

"What kind of pasta?" he asks, and he can hear the hiss of Klavier starting the stove.

"Spaghetti?" Klavier suggests. "Goes well with meatballs, nein?"

"Alright." Apollo has to stand on his toes to reach the box, and he only grabs it when he lunges forwards. Stupid heights. The world isn't build for short people, is it?

When he walks back into the kitchen, Klavier has two pots of water on the stove. He holds a saltshaker in his hand, which he uses to pour a pinch of salt into the pot on the left.

"Fancy," Apollo comments sarcastically, and Klavier sticks out his tongue. Apollo puts the box of pasta down on the counter next to the stove, where it's reachable, and Klavier smiles at him for seemingly no reason.

It hits Apollo with the sheer, saccharine _sweetness_ of it all, and Apollo knows that he can't pretend to himself any longer. He knows that everything isn't fine, and he knows that _Klavier_ isn't fine, or even better. Apollo is no stranger to Klavier's coping mechanisms. He knows exactly what's going on. Klavier is very… non-confrontational. In the face of crisis, he prefers to go on with life as usual, and never address his problems until they're staring him right in the face. He's been built that way, to place himself last and work until he goes under.

Apollo can't let _that_ happen again. He can't let Klavier get as bad as he was before, shaking and crying and unable to pull himself back together. Neither of them can handle that again.

For tonight, though… for tonight Apollo can let the issue go. He knows, that if it were him, he'd be too emotionally exhausted to be comprehensible. Apollo will let Klavier smile over it for now. It's so little to ask for, after all. A temporary, fake smile isn't a lot to give.

"Hand me the pasta, will you, schatz?" Klavier asks, holding out a hand. Apollo takes a handful out of the box, putting it in Klavier's palm.

Klavier drops it into the pot with a splash and a hiss, and scalding water droplets barely miss him. "A bit more."

Apollo takes out another handful, and Klavier tosses it in. He takes the bag of meatballs and empties part of it into the second pot.

He hands the bag of meatballs to Apollo, who puts it back into the freezer. It's quieter when Apollo makes his second trip to the pantry, putting back the pasta and grabbing a jar of sauce. Klavier is smiling, food is cooking, but it's quiet.

Apollo walks to the silverware drawer, and grabs two forks and two knives. It hits him then, that he still doesn't know what happened during the… meeting. He isn't sure he wants to, either way. Klavier isn't exactly made of steel at this point, but Kristoph has a way with words that makes each of them a knife- and a poisoned one at that.

Apollo leaves all of the dinner things on the table, straightening the placemats and arranging the silverware on top of them. And he'd been _so_ happy to say goodbye forever to Kristoph Gavin.

He wanders back into the kitchen, and busies himself with getting two glasses of water. Usually him and Klavier split a bottle of wine over dinner, or something of the sort, but Apollo really thinks that tonight is not the night for alcohol. With everything they're going to deal with tomorrow, they really don't need to drink tonight.

As far as coping mechanisms go with Klavier, alcohol is a big one, and one they _really_ don't need to reintroduce. They've had improvement, after all. Lately, Klavier hasn't drunk for any reason other than casual entertainment- with Apollo watching carefully all the while. It's better than the binge drinking he used to do, at any rate.

Apollo's fist clenches around the glass. At this point, he just needs to make a list of things for Klavier to forget- the highest offenders being _Kristoph, drinking,_ and _suicidal tendencies._ The last time these three converged… Apollo is trying to forget that, himself.

Unpleasant thoughts aside, the food is still cooking by the time Apollo makes it back, and Klavier's poking it around with some kitchen utensil Apollo can't name. It smells good, and the air around the stove it heavy with the scent.

Klavier himself hasn't moved an inch. His eyes narrow with concentration, and his mouth is a pressed line. Classic Klavier- putting his all into every little thing he does, no matter what. It's all dedication, the adorable passion he has for every piece of work he does, like there's nothing he'd rather be doing.

Apollo walks up behind Klavier, slipping two hands around Klavier's waist and hugging him from behind. He smells like mint and chocolate, despite the thick scent all around them.

Klavier tenses under Apollo's hands immediately, but goes slacker once Apollo's chin comes to rest on his shoulder. He only fully relaxes when he looks over at Apollo, and Apollo guesses that he's making sure that the person hugging him is Apollo. Why he feels he has to do that, Apollo doesn't know, but he isn't one to judge Klavier's insecurities.

Apollo links his hands over Klavier's stomach, breathing on the side of his neck. Klavier turns his head to kiss the top of Apollo's head, through tufts of brunette hair.

"I set the table," Apollo says into Klavier's ear, and Klavier nods.

"Food'll be ready any minute now, could you bring plates?" he asks, and Apollo nods and moves off of him. A quick search through the cabinet produces two dinner plates, large red ones they bought shortly after moving in together.

Klavier's gotten a strainer, and he's separating pasta from water over the sink- still paying it the utmost attention. Apollo wonders if he's doing it on purpose, to keep himself from thinking about Kristoph. He almost laughs aloud at that. Yeah. Probably. What else, at this rate? What else _is_ there but to keep on living, focus on the little things and pretend like the big don't exist?

Klavier leaves the pot in the sink and motions Apollo to come over, holding the strainer full of pasta carefully. Apollo holds out the plates for Klavier, and Klavier separates the pasta evenly between them. He does the same with the meatballs, and Apollo takes the steaming plates to the table.

"Achtung! Dinner in 15 minutes." Klavier announces, snapping his fingers. Apollo can only roll his eyes.

"You're using the word _achtung_ wrong," Apollo says as he sits down.

He'd made Klavier give him a crash course in German when they'd started dating, just so he knew when Klavier was sneezing and when he was speaking in a different language. It was actually pretty useful, because Klavier liked pet names and love declarations- so Apollo knew several variations on _darling_ and _I love you._ Although, from what he could remember, achtung meant _danger,_ or _watch out._ So unless Klavier wanted to warn the world about meatballs, he was doing the German shtick a disservice right now.

"I love you too, schatz." Klavier says with a wink, taking a seat across from Apollo. Something tells Apollo that he used _achtung_ wrong on purpose.

Apollo immediately grabs the jar of marinara sauce, and slathers it all over his pasta. He knows Klavier won't mind the liberal amounts he's using, Klavier prefers his pasta plain, somehow. For a multibillionaire rockstar with money to burn, Klavier really has a taste for bland food. Apollo really can't fathom the man.

Apollo stabs his fork into his pasta, twirling it. All he can think about is the man sitting across from him. Klavier's slipping into the rockstar act again. The German, the flirting, the winking- it's all rockstar prosecutor Klavier Gavin, and as much as it is a part of Klavier, it's only being used as a coverup right now. Apollo really wishes he could fix this- _this_ being whatever is bothering Klavier- already. He hates seeing Klavier in pain, even if it doesn't look like it. He _knows_ Klavier hides it well. In fact, the only reason Apollo can even _tell_ that something is wrong is that he knows Klavier so well. If he didn't…

"Klavier?" Apollo asks, and it sounds sudden, surrounded by the silence. Klavier looks up from his pasta.

"You…" Apollo runs a hand through his hair. "You do know that you can talk to me no matter what, right? If _anything_ is bothering you, I'm here."

Klavier's staring at him. Fuck, Apollo probably sounds so clichéd right now. This came out of nowhere, and now Klavier's thinking about what happened today again.

"I mean, I just wanted…" Apollo stutters, trying to think of the right thing to say. He doesn't want to force Klavier into talking, but he doesn't want to dismiss his own offer for support. "Don't forget that, ok?"

Klavier nods, not saying a word. He goes back to his food nearly immediately, and Apollo is suddenly struck by a worry that he's frightened Klavier back into silence.

"I love you," Apollo says quietly, smiling. He hopes it doesn't look forced.

Klavier looks up, and his eyes are shining a little. There's something unreadable in them, something hollow and needy. "I love you so much, schatz. So much."

It sounds slightly desperate, and his eyes look wet enough to be tearing up. Apollo's not pushing it any more than this. Klavier looks- sounds- _feels_ awful, and Apollo's not going to bring today back up before Klavier's ready. He wants to apologize, but he knows that Klavier would brush it off.

Apollo's done with his food by now. He pushes away his plate, and all it takes is a glance at the growing stack of dirty dishes for him to sigh. "I'll get the dishes."

Apollo doesn't wait for a response before he gets up. He takes his plate and glass, and sets them on the counter above the dishwasher. He opens it and starts piling dishes in, cups and plates and forks and knives and-

 _Warm._ Apollo's hand brushes against something warm and soft, and he realizes too late that it's Klavier's hand.

He looks up and sees blue eyes, and a soft smile that's reserved just for him. "Ach."

They've both gone to grab the same cup, and Klavier is smiling at Apollo. His eyes flick to their hands, touching, and Apollo almost wants to laugh. They're dating, living together, and they're both blushing like idiots when their hands accidentally touch.

Klavier takes the cup as Apollo stays frozen, bending down and putting it in the dishwasher. "You looked like you could use some help."

"Thanks, Klavier." Apollo says, taking his plate. Together, they make it through the dishes in no time, even if it is still oddly silent.

The whole time, Apollo tries not to think about what's happened today. He tries to concentrate on Klavier's hair, gently brushing against his face, or his smile, happy and kissable. Anything that doesn't make him feel like grabbing Kristoph by the shirt collar and yelling at him to fix it, to take back everything he's ever said to Klavier and let the man be happy.

Somehow, even if he could do it, Apollo doubted that would work.

Apollo shuts the dishwasher, putting his hands on his hips and exhaling. "What do you want to do now?"

Klavier's still smiling, but he's been doing it for awhile. He's not good at hiding things from Apollo. Now Apollo can see the weight behind it, an uncertainty hiding at the edges of the shiny grin. Klavier doesn't know how much longer he can keep the act up. He's getting scared, scared that it'll all fall down if he goes on for much longer.

"Ach. It's been a long day, schatz. I think I'll head to sleep," he says, and Apollo nods. Sleep is a _very_ good idea in Klavier's position, and Apollo couldn't agree more.

Although, he thinks, and his stomach feels like it's plummeting, Klavier doesn't really have the best track record when it comes to sleep- specifically sleeping through the night. He's been having awful nightmares since day one, nightmares where he awakens with a scream and shivers and sweats. He's never said what they're about, but Apollo has his guesses.

Klavier used to not wake up Apollo when he had them, and Apollo was enough of a heavy sleeper to sleep through the whole ordeal. It wasn't until the _really_ bad part that they'd come to the agreement that Klavier would wake Apollo up after nightmares, no matter what. Apollo's come to realize _why_ he never woke up Apollo, despite the obvious- that Klavier didn't want to cause any trouble. Either way, Klavier is at his most open after the nightmares and they both know it; he's too tired and scared to hide, and most anything he says is the truth. Klavier despises the transparency, the inability to smile and wave it all away. Apollo doesn't want to use it against Klavier, but he does want to help in any way he can. It's hard to help someone who fights you every step of the way, insisting that they're fine, that they've always been fine.

"I'll be there in a second," Apollo promises, and Klavier nods and leaves. Apollo can only stare at Klavier's retreating back, sighing.

Apollo turns around and turns on the sink. The pots aren't dishwasher safe, so he needs to wash them by hand.

He doesn't know what to do, is all he can think, as he pours some dishwasher soap into the pots and scrubs. He doesn't know what will make Klavier feel better. He doesn't know what will help him recover, what he wants, and the difference between the two.

Well, Apollo thinks bitterly, he does know what Klavier _wants._ He _wants_ to be left alone, convinced that he failed Kristoph- and by extension, the world- and deserves to crumble into nothingness.

Apollo nearly throws the pot into sink, and there's a loud clang. Yeah, like _that's_ going to happen. Klavier's not giving up, not on Apollo's watch.

The hard part isn't over yet, though. There is a second thing Klavier does when he's feeling bad, and it'll probably start soon, judging by what's happening now.

Klavier starts to crave affection when he's been hurt- namely, the physical kind. He asks for it, he begs, and Apollo is the only person he's asked who won't give it to him. Oh, Apollo loves Klavier, and he loves to be with him- and _yes,_ they've had sex before, but this… this is something else entirely. This is Klavier asking for someone to fuck away the pain, to force him into feeling anything but hurt. It's far from pleasure or love, it's sex to make him forget.

Apollo finishes washing the second pot. Yeah, he's not that kind of guy. He's going to _help_ Klavier, not relieve him. It's goddamn hard, but he loves Klavier too much to pass up the chance. And yet…

Apollo still can't help but feel like the worst of it hasn't started yet.

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 **rip that lmao**


	4. Chapter 4

**my ANs have been repetitive lately so I raise you: _kek_ lmao**

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"Apollo," he hears an accented voice say quietly, and there's a weak shove at his shoulders. "Please, schatz, wake up."

Apollo groans, and immediately, all he wants to do is go back to sleep. It feels colder now that he's awake, and all he wants is to settle back down and relax-

Something in his brain clicks, though, and he realizes that he knows that voice. It's _Klavier's_ voice, and if _Klavier_ is shaking Apollo awake, that means that he needs to _wake the fuck up,_ because something is dead wrong.

The first thing Apollo sees are electric blue eyes, widened and terrified. Klavier's hair is messy, his chest is heaving, and there are beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Yep, those are the symptoms of a nightmare, alright.

Apollo sits up, rubbing his eyes, and Klavier barrels into his chest the instant Apollo's close enough. Apollo really doesn't know what Klavier did before he started waking up Apollo, he's so quiet and touch-starved after he wakes up.

Klavier holds onto Apollo's shoulders, resting his head in the crook between Apollo's neck and shoulder. His breathing is erratic; staccato beats on Apollo's shoulder. Apollo guides an arm around Klavier's shoulders, and Klavier instantly leans into him, throwing his legs over Apollo's. Apollo is almost holding Klavier bridal style now, arms around his shoulders and thighs. Klavier closes his eyes, resting his cheek against Apollo's chest. His chest presses against Apollo's, and Apollo can feel his breathing getting more uneven and ragged.

Here's the affection thing now. This is mild, though, and Apollo does like holding Klavier like this. It seems to make Klavier feel more comfortable and secure, so Apollo doesn't think this will hurt Klavier in the long term. Apollo rests his chin on the top of Klavier's head, shushing him quietly. Klavier's hair is fluffing up, messy enough to have gained volume, and it's soft against Apollo's chin.

"Shhhh." Apollo whispers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not letting go, Klavier."

Klavier buries his face into Apollo, scrunching his eyes shut, and- oh shit. It seems like Apollo's attempt at comfort is what's set Klavier over the edge- good job, Apollo. It's what's started wet spots on Apollo's chest, smears that can only be tears (Apollo sleeps in sweatpants, and only sweatpants). Klavier sobs into Apollo's chest, visibly breaking down, and Apollo can only wonder _what the hell has happened_. He thought he was doing okay- comfort, check, companionship, check, stability, check. This _should_ be working.

Apollo takes ahold of Klavier's shoulders, drawing Klavier away from his chest slowly. He doesn't want to separate them physically like this, but Apollo needs to talk to Klavier if he's going to help.

"Shhh, shhh," Apollo keeps on whispering, trying to make eye contact with Klavier, whose eyes are busily looking anywhere but Apollo. Klavier leans against Apollo's grip, like he'd like nothing more than to cling to Apollo again, sobbing silently.

This isn't working, but all Apollo can do is try again. "Klavier, what's wrong?"

"I-" Klavier begins, and for a second, it feels like something has worked- but no, no, there's not enough time for even a comforting smile before Klavier completely lets go of Apollo, shuffling away from him. It's like Apollo's got the plague, all of a sudden.

It strikes Apollo that it's suddenly much colder without Klavier pressed against him, heart racing next to Apollo's. Klavier looks separate, almost far away now, even though he can't have moved more than a foot.

Klavier wraps his arms around himself, shrinking, and tilts his head up. The alarm bells go off in Apollo's head- _vulnerable. Hurt._ "Why are you doing this?"

"H-huh?" Apollo's still drowsy, but he's pretty sure that this is the weirdest question Klavier has ever asked, awake, drunk, sleeptalking, or- at all, really. Apollo doesn't really know what Klavier means, but he can feel his stomach sinking. Something is wrong. "Doing what?"

" _This_ , schatz!" Klavier grits his teeth, as though what _this_ is should be obvious to Apollo. "Waking up in the dead of the night, constantly comforting someone who doesn't even deserve to be _alive_ , staying with me…."

This catches Apollo completely off guard. This is _bad. Bad_ bad. _Time to dunk his head in a flaming barrel of gasoline_ bad. "Whoa whoa whoa. Wh- I… I care about you, that's why!"

He still doesn't even know what Klavier is getting at here, but this has come out of nowhere- and it's scary as hell. Whatever Klavier is thinking, it can't be leading anywhere good. The " _someone who doesn't even deserve to be alive"_ part is _seriously_ the most terrifying thing Apollo has heard in a while. There's a part of Apollo's brain that shuts down at the very thought, a part of his brain that wants to cry and give up because he can't go back there, he can't go back to Klavier wanting to die-

Apollo takes a deep breath. He can do this. He can navigate this. He'll try to redirect. Klavier had a nightmare, right?

Damn it, if this is all because _Kristoph_ told him something-

"D-do you want to talk about the-" Apollo begins, and it's too unsteady, far too unsteady. Klavier's still a lawyer, he can smell weakness, he can sense the weakest part of a testimony.

Right on cue, Klavier shakes his head vehemently, blonde hair swinging about.

"I _want_ to know why you're hurting yourself like this." Klavier hisses, and Apollo winces with every word. "No one's forcing you to take care of me, no one's forcing you to stay with someone so obviously beneath you-"

"Stop it!" Apollo interrupts, gritting his teeth. No. He can't keep listening to this. This is the worst he's ever heard, the tabloids themselves couldn't invent words with this effect- there's something haunting about seeing them come out of Klavier's mouth, Klavier looking hurt and terrified and fighting _Apollo_ for whatever reason-

Apollo feels shaky, and his stomach is doing somersaults. _Please_ let whatever this is pass, _please_ let it end with Klavier alright- "Klavier… what… what are you getting at here?"

"I don't deserve you at _all,_ schatz." Klavier says quietly, Apollo can see- are those _tears_ brimming in his eyes? "You should have so much _better,_ you should have someone taking care of _you,_ someone who can give you everything. You shouldn't be with me."

Apollo's blood turns to ice. This feels like a thousand knives pricking his skin, like someone's setting him on fire, inch by inch. Is this a breakup? Is this crushing gravity what it feels like, when the person that means the most tells you it can't be? "Klavier, st-"

"Why won't you just admit it?!" Klavier says, and that's just it- he _says_ it. Plain as day, no sobbing, no growling, just simple, quiet words, like he's stating fact. "Just _tell_ me that I'm a burden, because we both know that's all I am."

"No!" Apollo's eyes narrow. What the hell?! Hinting that they should break up _out of nowhere_ in the middle of the goddamn night is one thing, but making it because Klavier isn't perfect? The warning tape isn't as much tape now as it is a banner, spelling out that this reeks of Kristoph.

Of course, Apollo won't say it. Klavier will deny it, he always does. There's a part of him that still forces him to defend Kristoph, even now. Apollo has been forced onto the defensive, and he's just trying to buy time until he can talk sense into Klavier. "I'm- I'm not going to lie to you!"

"I won't-" Klavier begins, and he breathes in and out, struggling to continue. The silence is torture, and Apollo's heart races as he waits, until Klavier finishes the sentence. "I won't blame you if you leave."

"F-" All of Apollo's plans instantly evaporate. Apollo can't think anymore; he doesn't have the slightest clue about what's going on here. Now Klavier is outright saying that they should break up. This- this is insane! Klavier's expectations of himself have always been unreasonable, but this is going too far. Apollo can't let him believe this bullshit! "Klavier, you're- what the- no! Of course not! _Fuck,_ I'm not leaving you!"

"You deserve better than me-" Klavier insists, and it makes Apollo suddenly think of something. He feels sick just thinking it, but maybe… maybe Klavier never had a nightmare. Maybe he'd been tossing and turning, thinking that maybe the man lying next to him didn't really love him.

Apollo can imagine it. He can nearly _see_ Klavier staring at Apollo's sleeping face, worried that Apollo was in pain, panicked that he'd done something wrong.

It seems like Klavier always _feels_ like he's done something wrong.

"I'm not leaving, and that's final!" Apollo snaps, and Klavier seems taken aback when Apollo's voice rises. Apollo doesn't know if he's being too forceful, but _damn it,_ he's not breaking up with Klavier! He really does love Klavier, even _suggesting_ otherwise is ludicrous. He wouldn't leave Klavier, not _ever,_ and not now. This is- _fuck,_ this is ridiculous, is Apollo still asleep, somehow?! This has to be a dream.

Apollo realizes that he's staring blankly at Klavier, who's little more than a barely discernible shadow in this light. He looks as though he's shrinking even more, somehow, and Apollo is reminded to take a breath. He needs to remember that this isn't his battle to fight. Klavier isn't the enemy. Besides, getting angry can't solve anything. Klavier needs support, even if he is being completely idiotic. Even if Apollo still can't believe he even _suggested-_

Apollo shakes his head, trying not to think too hard about it. Come on, Apollo, concentrate on other things. Any things.

Apollo decides to reach out a tentative hand over to Klavier, only realizing now that he hasn't moved since Apollo last spoke. It's like he's frozen.

Apollo brushes some hair out of Klavier's face, and leaves his hand to rest on Klavier's jawline. "At the risk of sounding hopelessly cheesy, I love you, Klavier, and there's nothing that could convince me to leave. There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you."

"Schatz, trust me when I say-"

" _Nothing."_ Apollo sets his jaw. His other hand tightens around Klavier's, and he can feel bare skin against his own. Klavier's hand feels weird, without the rings he usually wears during the day.

Klavier's head drops, and Apollo can only see parts of his eyes through a curtain of gold hair. Klavier's staring at their interlocked fingers, like he's trying to memorize the sight. "You… don't know what you've gotten yourself into, schtaz…"

Apollo smiles, squeezing Klavier's hand. "We've gotten this far, right?"

Klavier's breath hitches, and it looks like he's struggling with something. His face contorts, jaw tightening as he swallows.

"Just… whatever may happen, _please_ remember, schatz, that I-" Klavier swallows again, throat bobbing. "I love you. I love you more than anything else. Please-"

Apollo can't take it anymore. The rest of Klavier's garbled speech is muffled when Apollo grabs him and hugs him, and Klavier continues to babble into Apollo's chest.

" _I'm sorry,"_ Apollo manages to catch from Klavier. "I know there aren't words, but I'm sorry. I never wanted this. I love you."

It doesn't really make any sense to Apollo, and he guesses that Klavier is apologizing for- fuck; he thinks he's a _burden?_ None of this is his _fault;_ Apollo can't blame him for _any_ of it. He wishes Klavier would stop blaming himself, too.

"You should sleep," Apollo suggests quietly, patting Klavier's back. All he can feel is glossy hair, running down Klavier's back.

"I have to-" Klavier begins. "You don't have to get hurt-"

"Klavier, it's fine." Apollo says soothingly, carding his hands through Klavier's hair. It's soft and comforting, as usual. "I promise, I love you. I'd do anything for you. It's ok."

Klavier doesn't say anything. Apollo is glad to realize that for the first time, he hasn't disagreed, but then again, he hasn't really agreed, either. Apollo just- fuck, Apollo just doesn't want Klavier to hate himself. Is that really too much to ask? All he wants is one measly thing that most people have without thinking, one tiny thing that could save Klavier's life.

It's quiet now, and neither of them have said anything in a while. Klavier's breathing is steadying, and Apollo has run his fingers through the same bit of hair more times than he can count.

Something is still bothering him, though. "Klavier?"

"Schatz?"

"Do you-" Apollo has to swallow. He doesn't know if he can ask it. "I mean, do you really want to break up with me?"

Klavier is quiet. Too quiet. Apollo doesn't believe it, he actually has to _think_ about this?!

"Apollo," Klavier whispers, but that isn't an answer and Apollo isn't taking it.

Klavier sighs. He knows Apollo well enough to know that isn't enough. "I just don't want for you to be unhappy."

"I'm not." Apollo says quickly, and Klavier gives him a grateful smile.

"Then it is fine, ja?" he says, and they come to the unspoken agreement to ignore the way Klavier's voice cracked. It's fine, and they can move on now. It's not good, not great, but doable, and that's all they need. Fine is all Apollo can hope for right now, and fine is good enough.

Apollo ruffles Klavier's hair affectionately. "Jeez, why couldn't you have just asked me if I was unhappy? You gave me nine heart attacks!"

"I'm sorry." Klavier says, still quiet, and Apollo hopes for a fleeting second that he didn't take the joke seriously.

He doesn't think after that, though, because Klavier presses a hand against Apollo's chest, pushing gently, and Apollo knows to lie back down. Thank all of the forces in heaven; he'd been losing it back there. Bluffing really is the key to everything, isn't it?

Klavier is still pressed up against Apollo's chest, though his breathing is steadying. His fingers rest on Apollo's ribcage, just above Apollo's heart, and his head is on Apollo's shoulder, as though it's a pillow. He curls up against Apollo, closing his eyes.

Apollo stares up at the ceiling, where the fan casts a light shadow and the moon shines through the window. He can't sleep as easily. He can't shake a thought he's just had, because he's nearly certain of it- and it's the type of thing that keeps him up at night.

Klavier wasn't apologizing for anything he'd done.

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 **thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**hey dudes wassup!**

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"Apollo?"

The first thing Apollo does is groan. It's a quiet one, he's still half-asleep, after all, but his limbs feel like weights and his head is aching. He _really_ doesn't want to wake up.

His dream starts fading away (something about time travel? A clown snake had something to do with it) and the memories from last night come flooding back- Klavier curled into a ball, pain written all over his face, Klavier insisting that Apollo is _too good_ for him and Apollo worried that Klavier's gone, that Klavier's beyond saving.

If that's the case, going back to sleep isn't an option anymore. Apollo cracks open an eye, and- _oh that's bright._

Right. Light exists, and it's coming in from the window.

Apollo carefully opens his eyes, squinting- though it's not hard to, when he's cringing his way through the light like this.

It turns out that maybe he imagined the voice after all, because it doesn't seem like Klavier's there. There are rumpled sheets beside him, in the space where Klavier should be, empty and cold except for sunlight spreading across the pillows. It's quiet all around, but the peaceful kind of quiet, even if it is kind of empty.

"Schatz? Scha-atz?" Someone begins calling softly, almost in a singsong voice, and Apollo groans a little as he rolls over. His face is suddenly buried in some sweet-smelling cloth, and warm skin underneath it shakes in time with laughter.

Apollo reddens as he backs up, trying to get a good look at whatever he's bumped into. It's Klavier, of course, standing right beside the bed- though now he's leaning over to be on Apollo's level. Now that he's stopped laughing his smile is nervous, but it seems genuine enough.

"Guten morgen, schatz," The sunlight is gentle on Klavier's hair, highlighting near-white strands of hair frizzing around his ears. His bangs are frizzy and flyway, as they usually are in the mornings, and though Apollo can't see the back of Klavier's head, he knows that the hair there is curly and tangled. There's a glint from something Klavier is carrying- something silver and shiny, Apollo remembers it was held above him before- but it's lower than the bed now, and Apollo doesn't feel like leaning over to check what it is.

Klavier still does sound nervous, though, and it suddenly hits Apollo that he hasn't responded yet.

"Hey," Apollo croaks, and immediately clears his throat. Something anticipatory is trembling at the edge of Klavier's smile. He almost looks concerned- oh, right. Last night… happened. They're going to have to address that, even if Apollo would rather not. "Hey. Feeling better?"

"Ja," Klavier says. He sounds anxious to leave the subject, from the quick, one word response. How characteristically Klavier to the last.

Apollo closes his eyes. He _knows_ that it's hard to discuss stuff like this, but he can't let anything like this happen again. He doesn't like seeing Klavier hurt, and the worst is when Klavier doesn't want to accept help- which makes last night especially bad. Why is shit like this so _hard?_

Klavier seems to be following Apollo's train of thought. He straightens up to have enough room to look down, lips pressed together tightly, and Apollo follows his line of sight to- oh, so that's what the glint was. Klavier is holding a tray with a plate of pancakes on top, maple syrup pooling around them in sticky sweet puddles. It looks _delicious,_ and Apollo's stomach growls in reponse.

Right. That aching means that Apollo is _starving_. Difficult conversations about breaking up and nightmares and whatnot can wait.

"Ach. I made breakfast." Klavier admits almost shyly, and Apollo leans over, stretching his arms to reach out for it.

"Give me some!" Apollo says quickly, grabbing for the tray, and Klavier starts laughing.

"I made it for _you,_ schatz," he says with a smile, placing it gently in Apollo's lap. "Careful. We wouldn't want to spill anything, ja?"

Right. Maple syrup is a pain to clean off anything, especially sheets, even if it still does taste amazing. Apollo picks up the knife and fork, flashing a grin at Klavier. "Pancakes, my favorite."

Klavier snickers. They have pancakes nearly every day, to the point where it's almost an inside joke. Klavier has some crepe-like recipe that's too good _not_ to use, especially with chocolate chips or maple syrup- or at least, those are the toppings Apollo uses. Klavier is quite liberal with his toppings, actually, to the point where the mere sight of his breakfast makes Apollo's stomach turn. A sweet tooth is one thing, but pancakes stuffed with chocolate spread topped with whipped cream and M&M's and powdered sugar is _definitely_ another thing.

"What did you expect?" Klavier jokes with a raised eyebrow, climbing onto the foot of the bed. He sits across from Apollo, cross-legged on unevenly bunched sheets.

"Love you," Apollo mumbles, stuffing his mouth with pancake. If there's anything Klavier can make, it's pancakes- er, crepes. Maybe it's a European thing.

Klavier beams with pride, and Apollo can't help but smile back. t's quiet again for a moment as they stare at each other, before Klavier's smile begins to falter. He's cracking.

Klavier looks worse the more the sunlight beats on him, almost raw and spent. His skin looks pale and there are light circles around his eyes- ones that Apollo knows aren't mascara.

Klavier's chest rises and falls as he takes deep breaths, as though he's steeling himself for something. His eyes slide closed and his face freezes, until only his lips move to talk. "I'm sorry for last night. I don't know what came over me."

"S'not your fault," Apollo manages, through a mouthful of pancake. He doesn't want Klavier to feel guilty for asking for help. "Seriously, it isn't. Just don't worry about me, Klavier, 'kay? I love you."

Klavier makes finger guns at him, winking terribly. "Love you too, schatz."

Apollo can only roll his eyes, and Klavier snickers. It's quiet again as Apollo finishes eating, but more comfortably now. The subject isn't hanging in the air as much- it still is, of course, but Klavier doesn't seem to be fighting Apollo anymore.

Apollo runs the last bite of pancake through the syrup gathered on the plate. Of course, they still have to talk about whatever happened with Kristoph- if it brought on _this,_ the same quiet self-loathing that nearly ended everything, then they have a serious problem.

For the millionth time, Apollo wishes that Klavier didn't see Kristoph again.

The second Apollo is finished with his food, Klavier slides off of the bed. He takes the tray and sets it on the nightstand, elbowing a few books to make room for it.

Apollo opens his mouth to protest- he can take care of it, it's fine- but Klavier is quick to replace the tray, instead seating himself on Apollo's lap with a knowing smirk. He kisses Apollo's forehead gently, and all it takes is the little sigh from Apollo for Klavier to know that this _is_ better.

"Mmmm." Apollo hums softly, and Klavier laughs quietly. Klavier's pajamas are soft against Apollo's skin, a light pink color, and loose enough to drape across Klavier's body beautifully. Now _this_ is a way to get woken up.

Apollo winds a hand through the silky material in Klavier's collar, dragging him closer. Klavier's breath is warm on his lips as he drags Klavier down to kiss him, and it smells faintly of pancakes- though with a very generous helping of chocolate.

Yep, this is the affection thing in full force- Klavier's kissing Apollo like it's the last time he ever will, panting in between feverish kisses. His hands cup Apollo's face, stroking and touching; his finger pads are rough from guitar strings, but warm enough to still be solid and comforting. His feet nudge at Apollo's legs, bent so he's kneeling over Apollo. It's like he's matching every part of himself to Apollo's body, to feel and touch everything.

 _Affection thing._ Somehow the phrase feels more relevant than Apollo had originally thought, like-

Apollo pulls back suddenly. No. No. Please don't let that be-

Klavier lets Apollo pull away, probably thinking that Apollo needs to breathe. He rests his forehead against Apollo's, thumbs still tracing Apollo's cheeks.

"Klavier?" Apollo asks, and it comes out as far too worried- Klavier looks almost ashamed now, like he's guilty of something, no, no, no-

"Are you-" Apollo can't finish it. He can't ask the question. He brushes his fingers through Klavier's bangs, trying to distract himself long enough to finish the thought. "Don't... don't do anything to make up for last night. Don't feel like you have to make it up-"

Klavier's eyes flick upwards, and Apollo knows that he's hit it. He's right on target, much as he'd like to be completely wrong. Damn it, damn Kristoph, damn whatever it is that's telling Klavier that he's not good enough without giving Apollo everything to make up for not being perfect. Apollo thinks he'll just get that tatooed on his forehead, so he can just point at it whenever something like this happens.

Apollo's breath catches. He searches for Klavier's hand, using his own to drag Klavier's down from Apollo's face and settling it on his lap. Apollo runs his thumb over the skin, slow, soothing circles, trying to comfort Klavier in any way he can.

Apollo stares down at their hands, holding on. He's suddenly reminded of last night, of the way Klavier stared at their hands, as though he was trying never to forget them.

Apollo swallows. They'll have to have this conversation sometime, and it's like they always say: there's no time like the present.

"Klavier?" Apollo asks quietly, winding a curl around his finger. He can't stop staring at the hair. It's golden, tied around his fingers like a silky ribbon.

Klavier tilts his head back, and Apollo curses internally. Now he can't see Klavier's eyes- not that he has his bracelet, anyways, or like he'd ever use it on Klavier. "Schatz?"

"How did… how did it go? Yesterday?" Apollo asks, and he nearly winces. It's clumsy as hell, but it'll do.

Klavier's hand trembles on Apollo's. "I've told you. It's just as you'd think, schatz."

Apollo frowns. Well then, why did he go at all?

"I don't want to say I told you so, but I thought this was a bad idea from the start." Apollo mutters. He's bitter about this.

Klavier sighs, and his shoulders droop like there's a weight on them. "He's my brother, schatz. I can't hide from him forever."

"I know." Apollo says quietly, tightening his hold on Klavier's hand. "I'm proud of you, though. I don't think I could have done it, walking in there and looking him in the eyes after everything."

Klavier's chest moves slowly, he's breathing heavily. "I don't know how I did it, either."

"I just…" Apollo's breath catches in his throat. "I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to go back…" he has the sudden mental image of Klavier, collapsed in his arms, incomprehensible and broken. " _there…_ again."

Klavier shifts on Apollo's lap, before glancing down with a smile. "I can promise you this much, schatz: everything is fine."

Apollo doesn't even need his bracelet. It's all in the way Klavier's voice quivers, how his jaw twitches. Apollo doesn't know what Klavier is talking about, or what he knows, or what it means. All he knows is that Klavier is lying, which can only mean one thing.

Something is dead wrong.

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 **fun fact I based Klavier's pancakes off of my own ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**o shit whaddap**

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Plunk.

Apollo rubs his eyes. The bright white of his computer screen is starting to burn. He's been working on this case for hours- or, at least, what feels like hours. He never can really tell how much time is passing while he works, he gets so enveloped in doing it right. Apollo is actually kind of notorious around the Wright Anything Agency for overworking, for coming in with heavy limbs and eyes blackened from a battle with sleep- or, more accurately, a lack of it. Mr. Wright always tells him that the best trials are the ones where you have no idea what you're doing, but Apollo _really_ disagrees.

Although, judging by how many times Mr. Edgeworth has asked Apollo to _please_ take Klavier home, and _for the love of anything holy_ not let him take up any more cases, the tendency is not exactly unique, in this household. Of course, Klavier's been on a leave lately, until a bit ago. He's been off ever since-

Apollo feels everything in him freeze up. His brain screeches to a halt, laughing nervously and saying _no,_ _we're not thinking about that. No._

He's trying to forget _that,_ how the sheer wave of _everything_ hit him in that single moment-

Plunk.

There's the plunk again, a bit louder this time. It's the greatest thing Apollo's ever heard, a distraction from whatever traitorous thoughts were about to destroy him. Apollo frowns, and it takes a second to place the sound- it's the piano in the foyer.

Apollo and Klavier have a grand, a lovely one of Klavier's that sits tucked underneath the staircase. It's way bigger and louder than Apollo expected, even though you don't really have to strain to hear it if you're directly off of the foyer, where Apollo's office is. He's close enough to see a crest of blonde hair over the top of the piano, and feet at the pedals.

Plunk.

The note is played again, and now there's another- they're ascending.

It's not really an uncommon sound in Klavier and Apollos' house. Klavier loves to play the piano, he says that the sheer irony of it kept him playing for years- because Klavier playing the klavier, _ha-ha._ He is amazingly good at it, though, and he can sight-read nearly anything. Apollo's tested him. Also, if Apollo plays a note, Klavier can identify it without even looking at the piano. It's kind of funny, especially when Apollo plays random notes when Klavier's in the middle of something, and he can hear Klavier shouting, _"D flat!"_ from the office. He literally can't help himself, and it's the funniest thing to Apollo.

Of course, Apollo couldn't tell you what note Klavier is playing now if you held a gun to his head. He's gone into some song, playing light, airy sequences. Of course, it sounds absolutely effortless, like he's not even thinking about what he's playing.

Apollo cranes his neck. He can glimpse Klavier over the piano, fingers gliding over the keys as easily as though he was born to play the piano, and nothing else. His eyes are closed, and the look on his face is astonishingly serene, as he leans in with every crescendo. It's almost like he's asleep, letting his fingers guide his way across the melody.

It's difficult not to smile at the sight. He makes it all look easy- playing, swaying back and forth, breathing in what he's playing. Klavier's hair swings as he moves, shimmering in the light. He really is jaw-droppingly gorgeous, especially when he lets everything go.

Of course, music is and always has been a major stress reliever for Klavier- he just seems free when he's singing or playing something, infinitely more happy as though he doesn't even have to try.

 _"It makes me feel useful," Klavier tried to explain some time ago, staring wistfully at the piano keys. "It's something to give, something beautiful unique only to me."_

 _Apollo hugged him at that. "Idiot. You're always useful."_

Playing makes Klavier happy, though, and he seems to genuinely enjoy music- and Apollo can't exactly complain about multiple-Oscar-and-Grammy-winner Klavier Gavin giving live performances in Apollo's home whenever he feels like it.

Apollo decides to close the computer. Yeah, it can wait. He's worked enough for today, after all, and- _fuck,_ when did it get _dark?!_

Yeah, Apollo decides, gaping at the darkened window, he's worked enough for today. He'll go see Klavier.

Klavier's so concentrated on the piano that it's far too easy to sneak up on him. He looks perfectly at peace like this, the single silhouette in the room. The whole entryway is filled with life, somehow, even though Klavier is absolutely alone, dwarfed by the two-story space. It's almost like he's performing again, trying to swallow the whole world in his music.

Klavier nods his head gently to a steady beat, oblivious to all around him.

He's also oblivious to Apollo, who walks up and slides his arms around Klavier's neck, clasping his hands over Klavier's chest. "Hey."

Klavier chuckles, and he doesn't stop playing. The music gets louder. "Finished working?"

"Just about." Of course, Apollo has an appeal to get to, but that doesn't need to be done until next week.

Klavier smiles, leaning backwards into Apollo's chest. He's still playing perfectly, somehow. "Don't overwork yourself, schatz."

Yep, Klavier is definitely feeling better. Why the hell didn't Apollo think of this sooner? Of course music's done the trick, in the end.

"How are you doing that?" Apollo is sure his eyes are bugging, staring at Klavier's hands, but Klavier only laughs, shaking his head and looking back at the keys.

"Practice, and a good teacher." The thought seems to sober him a little, and Apollo's worried that he's spoiled Klavier's good mood- but no, Klavier looks over his shoulder, grinning. "Do you want to learn?"

What?

Apollo lets go of Klavier, running a hand through his own hair nervously. "Me?"

"You, schatz," Klavier confirms. "I'll teach you, ja?"

Klavier scooches over on the bench, until he's nearly hanging off of it. He pats the empty space next to it, and Apollo sits down next to him.

It's a tight squeeze, but Apollo can think of worse things than being too close to Klavier Gavin. The piano looks _really_ weird from here- Apollo may have a piano in his house, but this is the first time he's actually sat down at it.

Klavier takes Apollos' hands, gently. "Fingers on the keys- rounded, schatz- no, not curled, _rounded._ Like so-" he demonstrates, with long, tanned fingers.

Apollo tries to copy it, but he just feels stupid. Klavier beams, either way. "Achtung, so he _can_ be taught!"

Apollo blushes. Jeez, he just shaped his fingers. "So uh… what were you playing before?"

Klavier's eyes shine. "Ah. Moonlight Sonata, movement one. Beethoven."

"Nerd," Apollo mutters, and Klavier laughs.

"Cultured is the word you are looking for, mein schatz." He directs Apollo's hands to the keyboard, on what Apollo can only describe as the white keys. "The beginning is mostly arpeggios, we could try that."

Klavier positions Apollo's hand a bit to the left of the center, and he points out three keys. "G#, C#, E. Now, play them in order from left to right- smoothly, ja?"

Alright. Two black keys, one white. Not too hard.

Apollo plays them, and it sounds awful and unsteady compared to Klavier's rendition- but Klavier seems happy. "Achtung! Very good!"

"You're using achtung wrong," Apollo mutters, but Klavier pretends not to hear.

Klavier points to the next three notes, and pretty soon, Apollo's got a pattern- a few arpeggios, each played in a sequence for a couple of times. They're getting more and more steady each time he plays them, until they sound smooth- _finally._

" _Now_ we're getting somewhere," Klavier says with a grin. "Play that again, schatz."

Apollo does, running through the sequence in his head- it's not that hard, and his fingers know it by now. Muscle memory is really what's keeping him afloat here, if he's being totally honest.

Klavier reaches over, playing something, and _oh._ It's the melody, beautiful and strong against the background of arpeggios. Klavier glides around Apollo, and Apollo tries to keep it steady- and damn, they sound good together. Klavier's part is more stylistic, almost uneven in its hesitation, but it sounds beautiful.

They reach the end of the phrase, and Klavier snaps. "Achtung, baby! Moonlight sonata for two."

Apollo smiles. It's nice, when Klavier's comfortable like this. It feels like normal, whatever that turns out to mean.

Apollo leans back, content with observing, and Klavier jumps at the chance to play again. He grins at Apollo as he hammers some chords, then slides into some trills like it's nothing. Apollo can only stare at his fingers, moving as though they have a mind of their own.

"Movement three," he explains, accenting two chords. "It's good, ja?"

"Yeah," is all Apollo can say, unable to tear his eyes from Klavier's fingers. Seriously, how does he do it?

Klavier laughs at Apollo's expression, and his hands leave the piano. He wraps them around Apollo, still laughing into Apollo's hair. "Gott, I love you, Apollo."

Apollo doesn't really know how to respond to that, but it looks like Klavier's feeling better. After last night, it's really a relief.

"Love you too," Apollo says into Klavier's chest.

* * *

 **I tried to listen to moonlight sonata while writing this but ended up listening to ante up madoka I swear I don't know what happened**

 **fair warning, in the next week I have finals, so updates will get a bit harder. thanks for reading, and until next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

**haha what finals**

* * *

Apollo grunts, cracking open an eye. He has to squint, there's light coming in from a window.

He blinks for a few seconds, before his brain kicks in.

Wait.

What woke him up?

Right on cue, the alarm clock beeps again, shrill and annoying, worming its way into Apollo's ears. He can't help but cringe, it sounds awful. Ok, ok, jeez, so that's what woke him up. Thanks.

Apollo blinks a few more times, and the world comes into focus. Now he's awake enough to realize that something's wrong- why did his alarm wake him up?

The alarm is mostly a technicality, a failsafe that never actually gets used. Klavier wakes up way before Apollo, and he kisses Apollo awake as soon as he's conscious. Honestly, it takes real love to kiss someone with Apollo's morning breath the way Klavier does, gentle pecks until Apollo's up. And even if that didn't work, Klavier's beauty products and constant chatter are loud enough for Apollo not to fall back asleep, that's for sure. So Apollo never actually gets woken up by his alarm, which means that something is weird right now.

Something stirs on his chest, something tangled and blonde, and Apollo realizes that Klavier is actually still asleep- er, still _half-_ asleep. His head is resting on Apollo's chest, completely still.

Apollo smiles to himself. Klavier's adorable when he's asleep, completely unmoving and content. It's like a picture frozen in time, of Klavier at peace… until reality worms its way into that brief rest, and he has a goddamn nightmare.

Although, Apollo will have to wake up Klavier if he wants to move. Klavier cuddles like mad when he's in bed, head on Apollo's chest and an arm around Apollo's waist and legs tangled together until no one can tell whose is whose. There's no way in hell that Apollo's getting out of bed without waking up Klavier.

"Klavier?" Apollo asks thickly, through a layer of sleep. "Why aren't you up already?"

Klavier makes a groaning sound and fidgets. Whatever he's groaned sounds something like _schatz_ , so Apollo takes it as a response.

Still, this is really weird. In all the time they've been together, Klavier has never slept through a Monday like this- not a normal Monday, anyways.

Oh. Considering what happened on Saturday... this isn't a normal Monday, is it?

"You feeling ok?" Apollo asks soothingly, carding a hand through the mess of Klavier's hair. Klavier hums a little, leaning into Apollo's touch. Doesn't look like it.

"Don't feel well," Klavier mumbles, and Apollo wraps his hand around to feel Klavier's forehead. It feels a little warm, but that doesn't even rule out half of Apollo's worries.

Actually, when he thinks about it, Apollo can't blame Klavier for taking a sick day after all that's happened. Apollo knows that he'd be taking a mental health day, that's for sure. He doesn't even doubt that Klavier is physically ill- he's _seen_ Klavier make himself sick with stress before, finally collapsing when Apollo talked him into lying down. It's almost ridiculous to see Klavier taking care of himself like this, but maybe Apollo's constant reminders and near nagging have finally paid off.

"Thank you for telling me," Apollo says quietly, and Klavier sighs. Apollo _knows_ that Klavier's a perfectionist, but fuck, he needs days off, especially now. His boss, Prosecutor Edgeworth, had even specifically told Apollo to try and get Klavier to take off Monday.

 _I know what it's like,"_ was all the prosecutor had said, quiet and meek. _"I remember what it's like, to have the very person you're trying to impress… turn out to be the worst possible kind of person." That was when he'd met Apollo's eyes, and all Apollo could see was steely grey. "Just make sure he doesn't forget you, through it all. Don't let him think it's him against the world."_

Apollo didn't pry. He knew that Mr. Edgeworth and Wright had a turbulent past; though don't ask him how it ended in the golden rings on each of their fingers. Don't as him when the wedding is, either, because he doesn't know.

Klavier nuzzles into Apollo's chest, hand tightening around Apollo's waist. Yep, Apollo can't really argue with a Monday off, can he- he means, who _would?_ Spending a day in bed with Klavier Gavin was honestly the best thing Apollo could think of. They'd have pancakes, of course, and probably marathon some stupid movies.

Apollo smiles, patting Klavier's head. He knows that he probably shouldn't take another day off, but for Klavier, he will. He can basically work from home at this rate, handling paperwork for the newly-admitted-to-the-bar Phoenix Wright.

At the very least, Mr. Wright seems to understand what's going on with Klavier- and don't think Apollo hasn't noticed that him and Edgeworth are being _weirdly_ understanding about this, because he has, and he's going to poke Trucy for the story on that one. Mr. Wright is actually being uncharacteristically nice about Apollo taking off time to take care of Klavier.

Apollo runs his fingers through Klavier's hair. "You want me to make breakfast, or do you want to stay in bed for awhile?"

"Won't you be late for work, then?" Klavier asks sleepily, closing his eyes.

Apollo groans, both internally and externally. He's not going to work today, Klavier needs him here. "Klavier, I thought we were over this. I'm staying to take care of you."

"You can't miss more work because of me," Klavier mumbles, almost to himself.

Apollo strokes Klavier's hair out of his face, smiling at the soft, tan skin. "You're more important, any day of the week."

Klavier pointedly ignores Apollo's hand, and his face crumples, brow furrowing. "I… I know how much your job means to you, schatz. You've told me how hard you worked for this."

Well… that is true. It isn't exactly easy to be a lawyer, especially when you're a broke orphan. Being a lawyer had been Apollo's dream for _years,_ ever since he'd been old enough to understand it. Other kids changed their answers for what they wanted to be when they grew up, but Apollo was a lawyer at heart since Day 1- and nothing was changing that.

Apollo swallows. Of course, ten year old him hadn't planned on- uh, _Kristoph_ , or falling in love with Klavier. "Don't be stupid. You mean more."

Klavier smiles, pointing an index finger at him. "Achtung! I can take care of myself for a bit, ja? Herr Wright is forgiving, but you still need to go to work _some_ time."

"Dork. You're still using achtung wrong," Apollo rubs his eyes.

Klavier makes a good point, as usual. Mr. Wright and Apollo are friends, and it does seem like he understands what Apollo and Klavier are going through, but Apollo's continued employment is downright nepotism, at this rate. He's not contributing very much, and he's been a bit of a mess since the Misham trial- not to mention how much time he's taken off for Klavier, especially around the time they started dating-

Apollo closes his eyes. The time when Klavier nearly missed dying.

There's a nice sobering thought for Apollo's morning. He opens his eyes again, blinking. "Will you be alright without me?"

"Ja. Remember what I said, about you being happy? You don't have to take care of me all the time, mein schatz." Klavier says, drawing patterns on Apollo's chest. They might be words, but more likely they're musical notes- or at least, that's what Klavier claimed last time Apollo asked him.

Apollo sighs. "I don't want you to feel like you have to-"

"I feel no obligations, schatz. I'm a grown man, ja? I can stay alone in my own house without getting into trouble." Klavier interrupts, leaning forwards and pecking him on the lips. "Sometimes, it seems like all you do it worry about me."

"Yeah," Apollo chuckles softly. He doesn't say it, but there's a lot to worry about. Klavier seems alright, though, he slept through the night, and he was stable all day yesterday- fuck, it sounds like Apollo's talking about a kid. Either way though, Apollo thinks Klavier can handle himself for a bit- and besides, Klavier's right- he can stay by himself, for fuck's sake.

Something twinges in Apollo's chest, and he remembers. He remembers what it's like to watch Klavier, becoming attuned any time he was near a knife or pill or anything that could possibly harm him- he _remembers_ the way Klavier would look at those things, contemplative and distant until Apollo would interrupt. Apollo remembers what it's like, watching the way Klavier slams his fist into the wall in court, harder and harder until the judge himself cringes at the crack. Apollo remembers what life was like when he first moved in, consumed by the watching and helping and _waiting_ for Klavier to realize that he wasn't a failure.

Apollo remembers what it's like, taking care of Klavier after the Misham Trial. He remembers it, the constant battle between wanting to trust Klavier and not wanting him hurt.

It feels terrifying to leave Klavier on his own after all that.

"Schatz?" Klavier asks, still close enough to breathe on Apollo's lips, "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"I would, but _someone_ is on top of me," Apollo quips, and Klavier pushes his lips out in a pout. Apollo smirks, kissing him on the forehead, and Klavier relents and rolls off of Apollo.

The air outside of the blanket is unforgivingly cold, and Apollo is suddenly very jealous of Klavier- and not because he looks _that_ lovely positioned in the sheets, smiling comfortably with his hair splayed out beneath him.

Apollo sighs. Work is looking worse and worse by the minute.

It's a quick enough endeavor to brush his teeth and tug on clothes, all to the sounds of Klavier getting out of bed. It's almost weird to have a morning that feels as normal as this, as unassuming and typical as Apollo guesses everyone elses' are. It's nice.

Apollo smiles at the mirror, tugging at his tie and grinning- yep, that's good. His hair looks great today, despite the unfortunate shortage of hair gel. Although, there's really no telling what'll happen to it on his daily bike ride to work. The wind is a killer.

Klavier hands him a piece of toast, his bag, and a kiss the second Apollo's out of the bedroom, and it's only then that Apollo realizes just how much he was rushing through the morning. Leave it to Klavier to wind back time itself, with gentle hands on Apollo's face and soft lips glossed with cinnamon chapstick- what the hell, it's 6 am, for fuck's sake give everyone else a chance, Klavier.

"Thanks," Apollo manages to sputter through his thoughts, and Klavier smiles.

He claps Apollo's back, steering him in the direction of the front door. "Make me proud, ja?"

"Y-yes! Absolutely!" Apollo says quickly, taking a huge bite out of his toast. It's really dry in his mouth, and he wishes he had water to wash it down, but he's already almost out the door.

It takes 3 bites to finish the toast (3 bites of Apollo wondering when the hell he'd become an anime protagonist), and Apollo is wheeling his bike out of the garage before so much as a minute has passed. He's going well on time, if he manages his usual speed he should make it in-

"…schatz?"

Apollo turns, swallowing the last of his toast. Klavier is still standing in the doorway, feet bare and expression concerned. His hair is blowing around his face, but in the movie-type way, not in the natural oh-no-my-hair-is-in-my-mouth way that seems to happen to everyone _but_ Klavier fricking Gavin.

"Yes?" The time is instantly forgotten. Klavier looks like he's struggling with himself, and his lips purse like he's on the verge of saying something- yes, something is definitely wrong.

"I-" Klavier begins, tilting his head upwards and closing his eyes. "I love you, Apollo. Don't forget that, however I may act in the next few days."

Uh… what? Is this a preemptive apology? Is Klavier…. planning something, or is he just so unstable that he's worried?

This honestly sounds like something that would justify Apollo staying home. "I don't have to leave, you know-"

Klavier shakes his head, tilting his chin down to stare Apollo in the eyes. "Just… No matter what might happen, remember that I love you more than I can possibly say. Bitte, schtaz."

His gaze is strangely intense, especially coming from eyes Apollo had only ever thought of as _calming_ or _soothing enough to fall into._ They're burning now, with something Apollo hasn't ever seen before. It feels strangely aggressive, for someone talking to their partner who's leaving for work.

Apollo's hand tightens on his bicycle handlebars, and for a second, he wonders if he should really leave. Of course, he shoots down the idea instantly- much as Klavier needs Apollo, a dependency is the last thing they need right now. Besides, Klavier needs some alone time. He's right; he doesn't have to be watched all the time like a child.

Apollo smiles. "I know. I love you too, and I'll be back before you know it."

He takes a running start before hopping onto his bike- always the hardest part of the ride, to be honest- and starts his way down the street, pedaling steadily enough. He can still make it to work in time, thankfully.

Apollo is halfway down the street when he glances back. It's slightly dangerous on a bike, but it seems like it's worth it. He meets Klavier's eyes, and Klavier is studying Apollo like it's the last he'll ever see of Apollo.

Apollo shakes his head. Now there's one phrase he wants to forget as soon as possible. It's just like he told Klavier: Everything is going to be fine.

* * *

 **pro tip: this is how u tell things will not b fine**


	8. Chapter 8

**BLESS EXAMS ARE OVER**

* * *

"Hey loser," Mr. Wright says cheerfully. Apollo rolls his eyes- he's literally just walked into the Agency, is there no mercy in this world?

Apollo doesn't really mind the Wrights and their teasing, he's used to it by now. It was off-putting and annoying at first, but the more Apollo thinks about it, the more he's grateful for the Wrights and their neverending chatter. It's a stark contrast to an imposingly quiet office, one he was scared to touch, one with a fittingly untouchable and imposing owner, where all it took was a glint on a pair of glasses for Apollo to fall over himself apologizing-

Apollo blinks a little. No, it's too early for this. He really doesn't want to think about that any more than he has to, especially with his weekend.

"You're one to talk," Apollo just deadpans, and something knocks into him with a squeal.

Apollo regains his footing and lost breath, looking down at a bright blue silk hat. "Hey, Trucy."

"Polly! How's Klavier?" she asks, squeezing his torso. Apollo pats her head around the hat, smiling. Sure, the teasing has grown on him, but if there's one thing he always misses from the Wright Anything Agency, it's Trucy. She's always so amazingly energetic and happy about everything, approachable and eager. It's hard to be upset around her, hard to say no to that bright smile and shining eyes. (Of course, with her past, Apollo has a lingering suspicion that it might not be the most honest expression, but she seems excited to see him).

"Uh…" Apollo runs a hand through his hair. How is Klavier? He doesn't want to lie, but he isn't even sure if he knows, himself. He decides to go with the truth as he knows it, as far as he can tell. "He's doing better. A bit under the weather, though, so he's at home."

"Aww." Trucy pouts. "I need him! He's my best assistant!"

"Hey!" Apollo cuffs her on the head lightly. "What about me?!"

Apollo's purely yanking on Trucy's chain now. They both know how he hates to help out with magic tricks. Apollo can't really help it- it's like he's anti-magical, negatively impacting every trick around him until they fail. Trucy likes to say that he's got all the magical energy of a used tissue.

Klavier, on the other hand, is the perfect assistant. At first he was playing along- he's surprisingly good with kids, as they'd found out- but now he's starting to get into it. Klavier wears the costume better than Apollo ever could, that's for sure, and him and Trucy are a natural team. They're good friends now because of it, and Apollo likes the role of audience far better.

"You're too grumpy!" Trucy giggles, trying to dodge Apollo. "and he's prettier!"

The image of Klavier flashes into Apollo's mind, hair carefully pulled to the side with one of Trucy's hair ties- in her signature style, of course, she proclaims as she winds the red ribbon around it- wearing a magician's outfit, just as attractive as he always is. Apollo can't help but snicker. "You know me too well. I can't exactly argue with that."

"You liiiiiiiiiike him," Trucy lets go of Apollo and sings, spinning in a circle. Apollo is caught between raising an eyebrow- is this really news?- and blushing- oh fuck, he's going out with a hot rockstar, why is he still in denial about this?- so he just ends up with a weird expression on his face, eyebrows skewed and cheeks heating up.

"Considering how long they've been dating, I sure hope so," Mr. Wright says dryly, reappearing from the small kitchen area. He offers Apollo one of the mugs he's holding, and Apollo takes it gratefully. Coffee.

Apollo takes a sip, exhaling and closing his eyes. Thank you, Mr. Wright. He's just realized now; that in the rush to get himself to work, this is the first cup of coffee he's had all day. The bike ride wasn't exactly forgiving this morning, there's something crazy like a 95% chance of rain- which means that it's damp, hot, and dense outside, and hell to bike through. The coffee is perfect, though, and Apollo can already feel the sleepy fog around him lifting.

Mr. Wright chuckles. "Rough morning?"

Apollo shudders, and he has to take another sip at the thought. "More like rough weekend."

"Oh yeah!" Mr. Wright says, like he's just remembered something. "Yeah, how'd that go?"

Apollo's shoulders drop. Isn't that the million-dollar question?

"He doesn't want to talk about it," is the only thing Apollo knows, so that's all he says. Mr. Wright looks almost sympathetic.

"I'm sorry. Must be awful, especially with all of the work it took." Mr. Wright takes a drink of coffee, wincing in sympathy.

He's right. It took ages to get approved to see Kristoph, even when it was just Klavier, an immediate family member. Security really ramps up on you when you kill somebody from inside of a jail cell, it seems.

They'd gotten special permission from Miles Edgeworth, who was much less scary than Apollo had been expecting. Turned out Mr. Edgeworth had heard a lot about Apollo, from Mr. Wright, his fiancée, and Klavier, who apparently babbled about Apollo to anyone who would listen, even his boss. It isn't that Mr. Edgeworth is unfriendly; actually, he's a really nice guy.

Also, he seems to legitimately care about Klavier- and he insists that it isn't because of the autographs Klavier got him from two years ago when the Gavinners were contracted to write the new Steel Samurai TV show. Apollo believes Mr. Edgeworth. It feels somewhat personal, the way he looks at Klavier. He has the same expression Apollo has when he's looking into a mirror, studying flaws with a small frown on his face.

Are you sure? Mr. Edgeworth had asked, so many times. Were they even sure? Klavier seemed set on it at the time, jaw clenched, nodding no matter how many times Mr. Edgeworth asked. Apollo wishes that he could be as confident as Klavier. He knows that he doesn't want to see Kristoph again, that's for sure, but far be it for him to keep Klavier from seeing his brother.

Are you sure? Apollo asked the night before, fingers interlocked with Klaviers'. He knows that something will go wrong. Kristoph isn't the type to innocently request to see his brother, especially with Klavier and Kristophs' relationship. Kristoph wants something, and Apollo doesn't want to see Klavier hurt for Kristoph to get it.

Klavier only chuckled, leaning over to kiss Apollo. Ja.

That was the last they talked about it, except for all of Klavier's it went like you'd think, ja?

Apollo can only sigh now. "I thought this was a bad idea."

"Klavier's okay though, right?" Trucy asks. If the first was the million-dollar question, this is the billion-dollar question with a free car and a trip to an exotic island.

Apollo doesn't know. It's easiest for him to nod. "Yeah. We had a bad Saturday night, but he's fine now."

Mr. Wright claps Apollo on the back, and Apollo nearly spills his coffee from the aftershock. "Good to hear! Now you can actually help around here!"

Apollo rolls his eyes. "I have been! Who found the contradiction with Charlotte in Tomoe VS State?"

Mr. Wright makes a face, like he'd been hoping Apollo wouldn't play this card. "Ok, but who was expecting her to be like that?!"

Uh, no one. The innocent act she put on was actually rather good. It took a tag-team of the Magatama and Perceiving to sniff her out.

Apollo smirks. "Yeah, but I found the murderer, didn't I?"

Mr. Wright nods a little, before deciding to give the credit to Apollo. "Ok, fine. Just take this one, will you? I'm not good with this kind of thing."

He tosses a case file at Apollo, and Apollo scans it quickly- Oktavia something, cause of death drowning? That sounds… weird. No wonder the Agency is taking it.

"Yeah, okay." Apollo downs the rest of his coffee, shaking his head a bit. He'll need to be awake for this one, by the looks of it. The case file is pretty thick.

"Oh yeah, and Miles is stopping by later." Mr. Wright says absentmindedly, flipping through another case file. "Not sure why. He said we'll probably know by the time he can make it here."

"Bad or good?" Apollo is almost scared to ask. With what's been happening lately, he isn't sure if he wants to know.

"Bad, by the looks of it. He was pretty shaken up this morning, and he kept on saying that he wishes he could tell me what happened." Is that worry in Mr. Wright's voice? Shocking.

Apollo's skin crawls. Yep, he wishes he never asked. Looks like all of his premonitions lately are amounting to something. Call him a Jedi, because he's got a bad feeling about this.

* * *

 **same dude**


	9. Chapter 9

**r u ready freddy**

* * *

It's a few hours later when Apollo finds out what the bad thing is.

"…Daddy?" He can hear Trucy call from the main living room, and her voice quivers a little, unsteady.

Apollo's first thought is that _something's wrong,_ and he's out of his seat in seconds. _Please,_ if something is really wrong, not Trucy. _Please_ don't let anything happen to her, he's begging of- whomever he's talking to in his head, he guesses. He's too suddenly worried to bother with logic.

Apollo's out of his office before he's realized he's moving, skidding to a stop in the living room. Mr. Wright appears in the doorway of his office in an instant after Apollo, out of breath and eyes widened. He looks panicked out of his mind, eyes glued onto Trucy.

"Trucy?" Apollo gasps, at the same time as Mr. Wright asks, "What's wrong?"

Trucy doesn't even look at them. Her eyes are glued to the television screen, widened in disbelief. Her arms wrap around her knees, pressed to her chest. "You need to see this."

Apollo's sigh of relief is cut short. Trucy is physically fine, limbs attached, not bleeding, but that doesn't change the fact that something is _really_ wrong, judging by how Mr. Wright is staring. What the hell is so horrible that the Wrights are reacting like this?

Apollo walks to the couch, slow enough to try and calm his heart rate. He isn't sure how much more of the Wrights he can take, before he dies of a fucking heart attack before he's 30. If this is a prank, he swears, there will be no force in heaven or hell to take mercy on the Wrights.

Time to see what's up. Apollo scans the TV. It's turned to a local news channel, he can tell by the solemn looking woman sitting at a desk, inevitably delivering bad news. There are block letters beside her, _breaking news,_ red and blaring. _Prison Break,_ they report, and Apollo forgets how to breathe.

 _Him._ That's the only thing Apollo can think, the glint of glasses and a curl of blonde hair sparking in his mind. There's a flash of manicured nails, a delicate sneer, and Apollo feels like clutching at his head. Apollo shakes his head, he wants it all _out,_ he never wants to see any of it again. Apollo doesn't want to even think that _he's_ escaped, it's too horrible to consider. _His_ reign of terror is over, everything should be over, Apollo _won,_ he should never have to think about _him_ and the sheer petrifying _power_ he holds.

Mr. Wright makes a choked noise from behind them. "He's-"

Mr. Wright stops, mid-phrase. Apollo can't blame him; he's still wrapping his head around it too. Somehow it doesn't feel real, even with the new text scrolling in that's confirming his worst fears. Apollo is so used to having _him_ put away, cleaning up the after effects, trying to forget what caused it all in the first place.

Apollo feels his skin prickle, and he can't help but shiver. He _knows_ that it's unreasonable, but he's terrified. He doesn't want to think-

"We'll be fine." Mr. Wright interrupts, and the smile on his face looks like it hurts. "We're all going to be fine."

Apollo's brain fires back with a volley of sarcastic remarks, but he can't say anything. He hates himself for even thinking that they wouldn't be fine. He has to believe Mr. Wright. He has to believe that they'll be fine. He isn't sure that he'll keep standing, if he doesn't. The news is like being punched in the gut, left reeling and breathless and in too much pain to think about getting up again.

There's a swish as the door opens, and Mr. Wright jumps when Trucy shrieks. Apollo whips around to face the door, clenching his fists so hard that his nails are digging into his palms. The adrenaline takes control of his brain and he's ready to- well, he doesn't know what he's planning to do, but it's _something_.

False alarm. His fists are pointed at the grim face of Miles Edgeworth. The man almost looks sympathetic, staring at their jumpy reactions. "I take it you've heard the news."

"Miles," Mr. Wright says, rushing at him and hugging tight. Mr. Edgeworth pats Mr. Wright's back, as Mr. Wright buries his face in the crook of Mr. Edgeworth's neck.

The silence that follows sparks the rest of them back to life. Trucy gets up numbly and goes to Apollo, shuffling like a zombie and squeezing him around the waist. Her hat is knocked off when she presses against Apollo, but nobody seems to care.

"Do the authorities know how he did it?" Mr. Wright mumbles.

Mr. Edgeworth snickers. "No comment, no disclosure. Code for _they have no idea."_

Apollo laughs weakly. He needed the joke just now, he isn't sure what else to do with his hysterics. He's so uneasy that the slightest thing sets him off laughing awkwardly, and Mr. Wright follows suit. It's easier to laugh then let himself think, it's easier not to let his mind fill the silence.

Apollo swallows, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. "You don't think he's going to-"

Mr. Edgeworth sighs, the hand on Mr. Wright's shoulder tightening its grip. "Justice, this is precisely as serious as you think it is. Kristoph Gavin is as selfish and vindictive as you remember him. I doubt that prison time to reflect on it has changed his views on any of you, or done anything to abate his anger."

Somehow, it's different the second he says the name _Kristoph Gavin._ The sentence transforms fear into reality, when the name they all whisper is being spoken aloud.

Apollo closes his eyes and inhales. He's terrified- hell, petrified. He doesn't think he's going to eat or drink anything for the next few weeks- or until Kristoph is caught. His brain is betraying him now, listing causes of death from every case he's seen. Gunshots, a bang and a lightning quick bullet before it's all over. Poisonings, body destroyed from inside out, no one realizing until it's too late. Drowning, lungs aching, burning for air, thrashing in vain.

Apollo shakes his head. He can't do thi- _oh fuck_ , his brain interrupts, _Trucy,_ and _Mr. Wright._ They're in danger too; they were as much a part of Kristoph's downfall as he was, _please_ don't let either of them get hurt, _please_ -

 _Klavier._

Apollo's eyes widen and he starts, fumbling for his pants pocket. Trucy draws away, staring, as Apollo fishes for his phone. Fuck, he needs to tell Klavier, he needs to warn Klavier, Klavier has to know- why the fuck wasn't Klavier the first one to know?!

Apollo's hands shake as he dials the number- what if he's too late? Klavier's house is probably the first place someone looking for Apollo or Klavier would go, they do have a security system but Kristoph isn't easily deterred- nor is Kristoph stupid, he'd probably threaten Klavier or do _something_ awful-

Dial tone.

Apollo presses the phone against his ear, listening carefully through his own frantic breathing. It rings a few times; each time feels longer and longer as the eyes of everyone in the room fall on Apollo. It's quiet enough that the dial tone is the only noise anyone can hear, ringing endlessly.

 _"Achtung! You've reached Klavier Gavin-"_

Apollo lowers the phone, hand dropping from his ear. There's a soft beep as Apollo turns off the voicemail. He doesn't even care that Klavier used _achtung_ wrong. Apollo can't shake the feeling that maybe that morning _is_ the last time Klavier and Apollo will see each other, that maybe everything _is_ wrong.

He has to call again. Apollo punches the button again; he can feel Mr. Edgeworth and Mr. Wright staring- it might be pity, at this point, for a man in denial, but Apollo can't let it end like this. He has to keep on going.

Apollo brings the phone to his ear, and the dial tone starts again. Once, twice-

The third time is interrupted. Apollo holds his breath- he doesn't know what he's expecting to hear. He closes his eyes, hoping with all his might that it's Klavier, alive and well.

"…Apollo?"

Apollo laughs breathily, light and disbelieving. He feels like he's won some cosmic lottery. The voice is hoarse, sure, and deeper than usual, but there's no mistaking the German accent. Even if it sounds horrible, it's Klavier, and he's alive enough to speak.

"Klavier! You're okay!" Apollo laughs into the phone, and everyone else in the room adopts a similar expression. It feels warmer in here, now that Klavier is alive.

"Ja, Apollo, I was taking a nap." Apollo winces, now that he thinks about it, Klavier's voice sounds _really_ bad. He's probably gotten worse in the time Apollo's been out. Apollo hopes whatever he's caught isn't too serious. "Wait, why wouldn't I be fine?"

Apollo closes his eyes, breathes in and out into the receiver. "Never mind that. I'll be home in- uh, Mr. Wright, can I-?" he asks unsteadily, he's already taken so much time off. Thankfully Mr. Wright nods. "a couple of minutes. There's some stuff I really have to tell you in person."

"Ja." Klavier agrees sleepily, there's still something drowsy slurring his words. Klavier hangs up after that, as much as Apollo would love to stay on the line. There's a part of him that still doesn't quite believe it, a part of him that wonders if he imagined the voice- it sounded weird enough, through the sickness.

There's a click, and the worry returns full force when Apollo can't hear Klavier anymore, when the sound of him breathing is gone. He can't help but imagine the worst, that he'd never hear Klavier's voice again, that he'd never even gotten to say goodbye. It's silly and clingy, Apollo knows, but he can't help it. He wants nothing more than to be with Klavier right now.

Apollo rushes to his office to gather up his stuff, he doesn't know if he'll be coming in tomorrow depending on how Klavier takes this. Besides, he'll probably work on his case tonight, there's a _lot_ to do with it. Nothing like a good murder to take your mind off things, right?

Apollo waves goodbye to the Wrights as he pushes the door open, and Mr. Edgeworth is saying something to them, gesturing to his keys. He's probably driving them home. A good idea, especially with the sky like this. It's going to rain any minute, from the looks of it.

Apollo glances at the murky grey above him. How cinematic and fitting. It takes a lot, but Apollo resists the urge to stare sagely into the sky and proclaim that a storm is coming.

At least partly, it's because he believes it.

* * *

 **oh no it's the attack of the plot**


	10. Chapter 10

**the plot is dumb let's take a break from that**

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"Klavier."

Apollo can't help but say the name as he rushes towards the man sprawled on the couch, shedding his bag on the floor. He doesn't care, he'll pick it up later, he's too relieved at the sight of Klavier in the flesh to think about anything else. It's all he could think about on the ride over, through the traffic.

Klavier's eyes open at the sound of Apollo's voice and search for the sound, scanning the living room until Apollo wraps him up in a hug. Apollo's kneeling by the side of the couch, arms wrapped tight around Klavier. Klavier feels warm to the touch, now that Apollo thinks about it, and in a feverish way. Apollo's glad he stayed home today.

Actually, now that Apollo thinks about it, he's glad for more reasons than one. He doesn't know how Klavier would react if he got the news alone, in his office without Apollo. Apollo can practically see Klavier leaning back into his chair with his head tilted up, his breathing turning to staccato, gulping the way Klavier does when it seems like the world is spinning around him.

Apollo tightens his grip. He hates the thought of Klavier dealing with Kristoph at all, but without Apollo around… _Kristoph_ is one big excuse for insecurity, a looming threat ready to strike at any moment.

Apollo draws back from the hug, and Klavier makes a little noise. His face looks a little swollen, a bit bigger and fuller than usual. Is he allergic to anything? Maybe that's why he's sick. He hasn't tried anything new lately, though, so maybe he's developed a sensitivity randomly. Allergies are _weird._

Apollo takes Klavier's hand, squeezing gently. "You feeling ok?"

Klavier smiles. "Ja." His voice is hoarse and deep. "You, Apollo?"

Apollo snickers. "What's with the Apollo? I don't think you've ever called me that."

"Sentiment, I suppose, liebling." Klavier mumbles, eyes closed. He really does look kinda pale.

"Liebling. That's new." Apollo says, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. "Another way to say darling?"

"Ja. I say schatz usually, nein? It is becoming overused, I think." Klavier continues, and Apollo rolls his eyes.

"You _never_ admit you overuse any German," Apollo mutters. "Is this self awareness? I'm gonna have to watch out for myself, if you give up the cheese act and pursue your romanticism."

"You're cruel, liebling." Klavier pouts and kicks Apollo gently.

"Ow! Hey! I left work early for you, you ungrateful foppish trash can." Apollo rubs his thigh, sticking out his tongue at Klavier. Klavier makes a face back.

Apollo sighs, staring at the floor. Right. Now that he remembers it, there was a reason he'd left work, a rather serious one. Klavier has to know. It'd be cruel to keep it from Klavier any longer, even if the news will probably hurt him. Apollo only hopes he'll make it through, especially with last weekend to think about.

"Hey, Klavier?" Apollo tries to say it as gently as he can, looking at Klavier.

"Mmm?" Klavier meets Apollo's eyes, turning to lie on his back.

"You sure you're okay?" Apollo waits for Klavier's eager nod, for him to look insistent. "I… I kind of have some bad news for you."

"Try it with a hint of optimism, ja?" Klavier suggests with a smile.

Apollo can only blink at him, staring blankly. That comment was… that was _weirdly_ Klavier. It's more typical Klavier style than Apollo has seen since- shit, since the Misham Trial. It's like the foppish rockstar Klavier is back, like he never left at all. The Klavier Gavin act doesn't feel like a shoddy cover for tears and hopelessness anymore, but a genuine pretty rockstar prosecutor. It looks almost natural to him, again. Apollo's almost ready to wonder if the depression and the nightmares and the- _attempt-_ were nothing but a fever dream, an elaborate fantasy he'd conjured up.

"Liebling?" Klavier looks concerned. Apollo shakes his head, he was probably spacing out wondering… but shit, this is _weird._ Something's off, but in a… good way? Apollo doesn't want to question it. If Klavier is feeling better, who is he to argue? Maybe seeing Kristoph again was more therapeutic than Apollo had originally thought.

"I'm fine, yeah. Just…" Apollo sighs. "Kristoph's broken out. They don't know how he did it or anything."

Klavier's face falls. "Ach, so that's why you look so stressed."

"Yeah." Apollo swallows. "I… fuck, I'm worried, Klavier." He stops short, staring at Klavier again. "You're taking this far better than I thought you would."

Klavier shrugs, and Apollo remembers coping mechanism number 1. "Klavier, don't hide anything from me, please. You don't have to pretend that you're alright."

Klavier's eyes drop from Apollo, skirting to the side. "Ja. I am worried, too."

A _ha_. There it is.

Apollo sighs. "Are you scared?"

"Ja. Are you?"

"More than I know I should be." Apollo leans back against the couch, into the cushions. "I mean, I know that it's dumb to be scared. Even if I do die, it can't be that bad."

"Don't talk like that." Klavier looks uneasy. "Bitte. I- I don't want to lose you, Apollo."

Oops. Apollo's mortality was definitely the wrong thing to bring up.

Apollo leans over to Klavier. "I mean- I'm not dying or anything! I'm not planning on it! I don't… I'm not going anywhere."

Klavier's smile almost looks painful. "J-ja, I know."

Apollo wants to bang his head against the wall. _Stupid, stupid…_ he's just added to the pile of insecurities, reminded Klavier that Apollo could die at any moment, that he'd be all alone with the bang of a gunshot. They've probably both been thinking it, but that doesn't make it right to say aloud. Everything's more real, when it's spoken aloud.

It's… it's hard, nein?" Klavier says suddenly, looking to the side. " _knowing_ that he could do anything he likes…"

Apollo closes his eyes. "Yeah. The suspense is almost worse than anything he could do."

Klavier hums. His eyelids are beginning to droop, he looks really tired. Whatever he's got seems pretty bad.

"We'll be fine, though!" Apollo insists, and it comes out a little loud. His words echo in the foyer, all the way up the staircase. "We can do this! We'll make it through! We've done it before, Klavier. You'll be fine, and I'll be fine, and no one will get hurt. This time, everyone will be fine!"

The speech sounds pathetically desperate to Apollo, but Klavier gives him a grin anyways. "Ach, seems like Apollo Justice is ready for action. Watch out, Kristoph! Achtung, baby!"

Apollo laughs. It echoes around, filling the silence better than his yelling. Klavier begins to laugh a little too, and suddenly, the house doesn't seem so empty anymore. There aren't any corners for Kristoph to hide in, no pockets hidden from Apollo and Klavier.

Apollo shivers. It's like all of the nerves he had have been melted now, eased away into the jumpy laughter. "Thanks, Klavier. I feel better now."

Klavier snaps his fingers. "I can say the same to you, schatz."

Apollo grins at Klavier. Leave it to Klavier to make it all better, especially when it seemed like nothing ever could. "So, are you hungry?"

* * *

 **oh yeah! this is long overdue, but thanks to everyone who reads and likes this crap lmao :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**you know what everyone seems pretty enthusiastic in the reviews and I have a history test to procrastinate for. have an early update with some melodrama kidz**

* * *

"Leftovers?" Apollo suggests, opening the fridge door. He can definitely go for spaghetti again. It isn't like they have a lack of it.

Klavier hums a little, thinking it over. "Ja, sure."

Apollo grabs two plates, scraping the cold pasta onto each evenly. "Have you even eaten anything today?" Klavier may be sick, but that doesn't mean he can ignore basic functions.

As expected, Klavier makes a face. "Have you?"

Apollo sighs, shoving the pasta into the microwave. "Fair point, I guess." Apollo hasn't, not since that toast in the morning. He'd skipped his lunch break to work, and then… news.

The microwave dings, and Apollo takes the pasta out. "Voilà. Dinner for two, courtesy of your expert chef, Apollo Justice."

"Ah, so he's also serving up a side of deadpan." Klavier snarks as he gets up from the couch. He takes his usual spot across from Apollo, who sticks his tongue out before digging into his spaghetti. It's got the weird temperature of reheated food, kind of warm and cold at the same time to settle at a lukewarm. Apollo is a little too hungry to care, though.

Apollo spears a meatball, eating before his stomach can catch up and realize that he's hungry. Today's been a long day, even before the whole Kristoph thing.

Apollo thinks he's still shaking.

Of course, there's a part of Apollo laughing at himself, wondering when the hell he'd gotten so goddamn _paranoid_. This isn't a movie; Kristoph isn't going to kick down their door with lightning striking in the distance and a swell of dramatic music. Cinematic as his life may seem at times, Kristoph isn't exactly a Hollywood villain.

Even if he's got the flair for it.

It takes a lot not to sigh at the mere _situation_. Apollo guesses his uncontrollable fear is coming from somewhere. He just doesn't want to be caught up in a scheme, he doesn't want to have his choice and humanity wrested away from him without even knowing. He'd hate to be a pawn to Kristoph.

Apollo sneaks a glance at Klavier, who's eating in the silence. Right. Klavier was forced to be a pawn last time. Klavier hadn't known anything until it was far too late. Now he considers himself _responsible_ for Kristoph's actions, god damn it. Apollo can't help but fear something like that happening to himself, or Trucy, or anyone he cares about.

 _Or Klavier, again,_ mentions the unhelpful voice in his head. Apollo tries to mask his sharp inhale with a cough, but it's not subtle enough for Klavier not to stare. Any noise is especially obvious since it's quiet again, silent over their dinner for the second time in two days. Maybe the spaghetti is cursed or something.

 _Klavier again._ Fuck, it's too horrible to consider. Kristoph has an ungodly amount of influence over Klavier, Apollo knows that, and Apollo doesn't put it past Kristoph to use it against Klavier again. Klavier's in an odd place now- he despises Kristoph and what he's done enough that it'd be hard to force him into cooperating again, but he's so crushed after Kristoph's last fiasco that it'd be easy to get into his head, easy to twist Klavier's world to Kristoph's liking.

Apollo shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth. Hell, it'd be especially easy now that Klavier is visiting Kristoph. They'd had that one monstrously long time together, and with future visits, this would be the perfect time to plan something.

Actually… the fact that Kristoph's broken out so soon after Klavier visited him is suspicious in and of itself…

Apollo swallows, and his fork drops with a clang. Oh no. Oh no no no. Oh _fuck_ no. No, he's not going to accuse his _boyfriend_ of breaking Kristoph out of jail. No. That's… that's _ridiculous,_ that's absurd, Klavier has fucking _breakdowns_ when he thinks about Kristoph, he'd never help Kristoph again. No. That was a stupid thought, and Apollo would be perfectly happy to never think it again. No. No. No.

The unhelpful voice pipes up. _But you're a lawyer,_ it says. _This is your job, Apollo. Besides, if he really is innocent, he has nothing to hide, right?_

No no no. No thank you, unhelpful voice that Apollo is this close to naming McCarthy. Apollo's not going to burn Klavier at the stake.

 _He won't blame you. With his past, he'd understand._ The voice wheedles. _And when'd you start calling your conscience annoying and unhelpful, anyways?_

Apollo really hates being a lawyer sometimes. And a moral being altogether.

Apollo swallows again, but there's nothing in his mouth now. His stomach is doing flips. Suddenly, he doesn't feel like stuffing himself with pasta anymore. "Hey, Klavier?"

"Schatz?" Klavier pauses, leaning forwards with his fork dangling from his fingers.

"You know how Kristoph escaped, right?" Stupid question. Apollo just _told_ Klavier, after all. Klavier nods, though, he's going along with it.

"Did…" suddenly, Apollo has to swallow again. His mouth feels unnaturally dry, like there's a towel stuffed in it. "Did you have anything to do with it? His escape?"

The second it's out of his mouth, Apollo feels like a terrible person. Way to go, Apollo. You don't even trust your own boyfriend. You constantly think about Kristoph's effect on Klavier, yet you're the one who can't trust anybody after that trial. Good job there. Nice relationship of mutual trust and respect.

Klavier shakes his head. His eyes are wide. He's looking at Apollo, almost confused at the question. "Nein! Not at all."

There's a squeeze at Apollo's wrist.

All Apollo can hear is his heart pounding, echoing. No. He'd forgotten he was even wearing his bracelet, he wasn't trying to use it, he'd wanted _so badly_ to trust Klavier-

Apollo makes a point of not looking at the bracelet. He doesn't want Klavier to know that it reacted. F-fuck, now he's outright hiding things from Klavier. Although, he's justified, if it really turns out that… Klavier had something to do with Kristoph's escape?! That… no, this is crazy. Apollo can't believe this.

"Ach. You're not using the bracelet on me, are you?" Klavier glances over at the bracelet, and Apollo is caught off guard.

"I-it tightened, Klavier!" Apollo winces the second the words leave his mouth. God damn it. So much for _subtly_ not trusting his boyfriend.

Wait, what? No, he _trusts_ Klavier, something is off here and Klavier can't have helped Kristoph, he can't-

"Your verdammt bracelet is broken, then!" Klavier's eyes are narrowed, fiery in a way Apollo has barely ever seen before. It's certainly a fire that has never been directed at Apollo, that's for sure. Apollo can't help but shiver under the intensity of it, the sheer force and… _anger._ " _Gott,_ you know that I would _never_ do anything to help my brother now!"

The flames flicker, stooping dangerously low, and Klavier suddenly looks almost... _lost_. His eyes go wide, his jaw trembles. "Not after what he did to me."

The bracelet stills.

The relief rushes at Apollo, and Apollo suddenly remembers how to breathe again. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest. The bracelet (however broken it may or may not be) can agree with Klavier: that Klavier helping Kristoph is impossible.

Maybe the initial reaction was a fluke. It was probably his wording of the first question- of course Klavier had something to do with Kristoph's escape, Apollo himself did too- they were the reason he was locked up in the first place. That's _something to do with_ it, right? Apollo has probably just hit some weird technicality. His question was pretty broad. And stupid.

Well, now Apollo feels downright terrible. He- oh fuck, he fucking accused his boyfriend of helping a criminal break out of jail. Klavier already feels terrible, Apollo is supposed to be _helping_ him, not treating Klavier as an untrustworthy criminal himself. O-oh fuck, Klavier already blames himself for what Kristoph did, he feels like he should have stopped Kristoph and that it's all his fault, and now Apollo's outright blaming him, this is only going to get worse and it's all Apollo's fault, fuck fuck _fuck_.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Apollo says quickly, so fast that he's worried Klavier won't be able to hear what he's saying. "I'm sorry, I- Kristoph's escaped, this weekend was just so- fuck, there's no excuse, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for accusing you."

Klavier sighs, closing his eyes. Of course, he's sick. He's tired. Why did Apollo think this was a good idea, again? "I- I just wish you would _trust me,_ Apollo. After all we've been through."

"I- I do!" Apollo protests, and immediately winces. Right, no one would believe him on _that_ count. Actions speak louder than words. "I- I'm so _sorry_."

Wait, actions speak louder than words?

Apollo twists his bracelet; trying to ease it over his hand until- there we go. It's off.

Apollo sets it down in between them, on the table. "You know what? I'm not wearing this around the house anymore. I never want it to accidentally go off like that again. I'd never use it on you on purpose, Klavier, because I trust you. I'm really sorry."

Klavier's hand makes a beeline for Apollo's, thumb running over the skin sans bracelet. Apollo shivers. It feels weird without it, almost like he's naked, but… he'd rather not have mishaps like this. Ever.

"Danke." Klavier says in a hushed voice. "I- it's fine, Apollo. I know that you trust me. It's been stressful lately, ja?"

Apollo breathes in. Ok, good. He'd been panicking, for a moment there. At least Klavier is alright. Klavier is alright, they're alright, everything is alright.

Apollo returns Klavier's smile, and they go back to their pasta.

"So what happened at work today?" Klavier asks. Apollo silently agrees to not mention what just happened.

"Ah, y'know. The usual." Apollo doesn't mention Kristoph. "Mr. Edgeworth stopped by. He says hi, and that he wants his star prosecutor back."

Klavier laughs. "I'm flattered. Any new cases?"

"Yeah, a really weird one. It's giving that one you did two months ago a run for its money." Apollo says.

Klavier snickers. " _Which_ one I did two months ago?"

Apollo joins into his laughter. Yeah, between the two of them and their weird cases, they could write a book. Not a very logical or reasonable book, but a book. Klavalice in Wonderland.

"The really weird one? With the French model and the butterflies?" It _was_ really weird, now that Apollo was remembering it.

"Ach, that one, ja." Klavier smiles. "Ja, there are some _really_ weird ones we take."

Apollo breathes a mental sigh of relief. They're falling into their usual pattern of casual conversation, comfortable and open and friendly. Klavier doesn't hold anything against Apollo- thank heaven, or Valhalla, or whatever. Apollo's just _grateful_ , as they talk through dinner, jumping from cases to people at work (they always complain about the Paynes, it's a tradition at this point) and when Mr. Wright and Edgeworth are going to get married ("How long have they been engaged, again?" asks Klavier). It's easy, simple, and Apollo's feeling a hell of a lot better by the time dinner's over.

"Ach, schatz?" Klavier asks, standing up to put away his plate, and Apollo looks up.

"You… won't mind if I take the couch tonight, will you?" Klavier looks a little nervous. "I don't want to get you sick, too."

"Yeah, no problem!" Apollo says instantly, and Klavier nods, leaving his plate on the counter above the dishwasher.

It takes a moment for Apollo's thoughts to catch up to the situation. Wait… Gah. This'll make the inevitable nightmares worse, if Apollo isn't there to comfort Klavier.

Of course, Apollo thinks cynically, staring at Klavier's retreating back, that might just be the point. The unhelpful voice is back, and it doesn't have anything nice to say.

 _He thinks you don't trust him,_ the voice says. _He literally tried to break up with you a few nights ago; you've only been becoming more of a mess since Kristoph escaped._

Apollo swallows. That was different! Klavier wasn't himself when he tried to break up with Apollo, he was scared and panicked. He didn't really want to break up with Apollo, he just didn't want Apollo to be trapped unhappily- and Apollo's _not_ unhappy with Klavier, he would give up _anything_ for Klavier to be safe and happy and _Apollo's_ for their whole lives.

Still. Apollo gets up, putting his and Klaviers' dishes into the dishwasher. This whole situation reeks of a fracture in his and Klavier's relationship, and Apollo doesn't like it. Of course, the voice says that it's his fault, and that him not trusting Klavier was the last straw. Apollo tells it to _shut the fuck up_. Everything will be fine. Klavier doesn't hate Apollo; Klavier's not even acting like anything is wrong. Klavier is obviously just being his usual idiot selfless self trying to limit Apollo's exposure to germs by sleeping alone tonight.

…yeah, as a last ditch attempt, this sounds stupider when Apollo puts it into words. Between missing work, Kristoph potentially coming for revenge, and now relationship issues with Klavier, it just feels like everything in Apollo's life is crashing down on his head, bludgeoning him all at once.

Apollo closes his eyes, breathing slowly. He can do this. He has to. Mr. Wright, Trucy, his client, Klavier… they're all depending on him going on, not obsessing over little details like this. This was probably just a bad day. A bad week, more like, where it feels like he could be fired, distrusted and left, or brutally murdered at any second. Whee.

After that cheerful thought, Apollo thinks he's ready to start working on his murder case.

* * *

 **dude ok with the aa6 marriage thing? it's totally miles? narumitsu is going canon and I am ready I am pumped this has nothing to do with anything but narumitsu guys**


	12. Chapter 12

**what is up dudes**

* * *

Apollo stares. Somehow it feels like if he doesn't blink, they'll go away. He must be hallucinating them. He must be seeing wrong. There's no other plausible reason, because this can't be real. It can't be.

Uneasy isn't strong enough to describe how Apollo is feeling right now. He can feel himself freezing up, his brain shutting down. He can't handle this. It's like he's being suffocated, like he's freefalling. The world is spinning around him, too fast and too soon to understand.

It's almost funny, how he's breaking down at such an unsuspecting sight, but there's no mistaking the glasses lying on the coffee table.

All of a sudden there are footsteps behind him, loud and threatening. Apollo can hear someone approaching, and he knows who it is, but Apollo's frozen. Try as he might, he can't turn around. His feet are glued to the floor, and his muscles aren't responding. Everything within him screams to run, but he can't move.

The footsteps are getting louder. They were already loud before, but now they're ringing in Apollo's ears. He doesn't know what will happen to him if he's caught, he's too scared to even imagine. He can already feel knives digging into his skin, poison burning his insides, fire eating him alive. He can feel the pain, barely discernible over the paralyzing fear.

His teeth are sore from clenching. There are tears welling in Apollo's eyes, from the frustrating inevitability of what's going to happen. Apollo's never really been scared of death, but now he can see everyone's faces in front of him- Trucy, Mr. Wright, Mr. Edgeworth, Klavier. He can't leave them all behind, he wants to see them again; Apollo can't fall into nothingness forever like this.

Apollo can see a shadow over his own, only getting larger. He's right behind Apollo. There's nothing left, Apollo can barely see through the tears blurring his eyesight, it's all fading-

Apollo is twenty-two. It's his first trial, and Kristoph has been accused of murder. "Et tu, Brute?" Kristoph asks, and the smile on his face doesn't fade. It's sickly sweet.

How didn't Apollo realize? How has he been this wrong? He's useless, he's a failure, Apollo is the worst lawyer ever before he's really begun.

Apollo doesn't know what to do. Who does he trust? Multiple lives lie in his hands, and this is real. One wrong move, and he's condemned them all. One misstep, and he's even more of a failure.

No, Apollo wants to say, don't ask me. I don't know what I'm doing, I'm wrong. Don't leave this up to me.

The judge's eyes are drilling into him. They're a shadow, growing, swallowing Apollo whole. Everything is fading to black, voices are asking him what to do, but Apollo doesn't know, he can't do it. He's wrong.

Klavier's dead.

Apollo doesn't know why, or how. He just knows that he's failed, and that Klavier is dead.

Apollo's hand tightens around Klavier's. He never knew Klavier's hand could be this cold.

The voice in his head is saying that it's nothing more than an object now. It's not Klavier anymore, Klavier doesn't exist anymore. He's a corpse with an autopsy report and a booking in a cemetery.

Apollo can't let go. Klavier's gone, long gone, but he can't let go of his- the corpse's, supplies the voice- hand. Someone's telling him to let go, telling him that it's alright, but Apollo doesn't care. It can't be over. Not like this.

Klavier deserved so much better than this. He didn't deserve to die. He shouldn't have hated himself. It shouldn't have been hard for him to live. It shouldn't have happened like this.

Apollo tries to hold back the sob. It's dry, he can't even muster tears, but he manages to catch himself before it's audible. Apollo can't let all of this just be over. A lawyer doesn't cry until it's all over, and Klavier can't be dead, so Apollo can't cry. Klavier's still fighting; he wouldn't let himself die like this.

He can't.

There's a swish of movement and Apollo's head suddenly aches, there's ringing in his ears and he's gasping for breath. The world is swimming around him, coming into focus, and there's something clutching at his head.

It takes a moment for him to realize that he's sitting up, and that the pressure on his head is his hands, holding his temples. He can feel sweat on his back, his fingertips are wet with the stuff.

Apollo chokes on an exhale. Klavier... he'll never see Klavier again. Klavier's more than gone; he's nothing more than a memory. There is no Klavier Gavin, Apollo is alone. He's a real failure. He can't even save the man he loves.

The other side of the bed is expectedly empty; bare except for the sheets Apollo has crumpled and kicked over.

Apollo throws himself back down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. What does he do now? He's an awful lawyer, he's an awful boyfriend, his own boss was a serial killer and his boyfriend killed himself.

Apollo closes his eyes, trying to breathe evenly. His heart is hammering in his chest. He has to calm down, he can't-

Eyes. Klavier's eyes flash in his mind's eye, deep blue and crinkled in a smile. They're staring adoringly at Apollo, staring at the thing he loves most in the world.

It's all gone now.

Apollo tries to swallow, but his throat is too dry. He should probably get a glass of water, but to go through the kitchen he'd pass the sofa, which is where Klavier is-

Wait.

Klavier is?

It wasn't real. Apollo can feel his whole body relaxing, he's ready to cry. It's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real. His brain plays the phrase on repeat, he can't think anything else. It's not real. Klavier is alive. Apollo just had a nightmare, he's just really stupid and stressed, it's not real. Apollo still has Klavier.

Apollo sits up. He's getting out of bed no matter what now; something in him needs to see that Klavier is alive and well. He knows it's silly, but he has to be sure. He has to see Klavier breathing.

There's no sound but the distant hum of the refrigerator, no light but one sole lamp on. It's still in the dead of the night, like a picture. It almost feels wrong to move in it all, like Apollo's disturbing the scene.

Klavier is passed out on the couch. He's sleeping soundly, better than he has in all the time Apollo's known him. Klavier is still as the rest of the picture, chest barely rising and falling as he breathes.

Apollo sighs in relief. Klavier is fine. Alive. Asleep, not a care in the world.

And, Apollo realizes with a twinge of guilt, he's sleeping more soundly than he ever has with Apollo.

Maybe Apollo should stop. Maybe Apollo _is_ bad for Klavier. Klavier did want to break up with Apollo, after all, and now he's _literally_ sleeping on the couch. Apollo can't help but feel like he's watching a train crash in slow motion. He knows that it's gonna hit, he can practically _see_ the impact, shards flying, but he doesn't _want_ to see it. He wishes it won't happen.

It's rare enough to see Klavier sleeping like this that Apollo doesn't want to wake him up. Apollo sits down next to the couch, leaning his head against the seat cushions. His back is pressed up against the bottom of the couch, so that he's seated on the floor.

Klavier's hand is dangling off of the couch, next to Apollo. Apollo grabs it, running a thumb over the back of Klavier's hand. He's relieved to find that it's real, solid enough to touch.

"Funny, isn't it?" Apollo laughs in a whisper, mostly to himself. "Now I'm the one with the nightmares."

Fittingly enough, Klavier doesn't respond.

* * *

 **danke all and good night**


	13. Chapter 13

**remember that one chapter from my first thing that completely took place in the courtroom bathroom? yeah, have a chapter set completely in the entryway of the WAA. you're welcome, world.**

* * *

It's 8:14 by the time Apollo finally stumbles into the office, sighing. He lets his head and arms hang, too battered to do anything else but give up.

And he thought his morning _yesterday_ was miserable.

Trucy skids into the room- " _Apolloooooooo!"_ he can hear her yell at the sound of the door opening _-_ before she stops short, staring. She turns, calling to somewhere else in the office. "Daddy! Apollo's dripping on the carpet!"

Apollo raises his eyebrows. _That's_ all she has to say? Apollo is nearly collapsing, having fought his way through the rainstorm to the office, and all she has to say is that _he's dripping?_

"I'm not dripping!" Apollo protests, but the second he tries to lift his foot there's a loud squelching noise. He looks down. Oh.

There's a puddle where he's standing, and his clothes are all soaked through, from his collar to his socks. His hair is dripping onto his face, splayed out on his forehead now that the gel has been washed out. Yeah, the spontaneous rainstorm on the way over had been bad, but Apollo hadn't thought he was _this_ wet.

Trucy giggles. "You look weird with your hair like that, Polly."

"Thanks. Nice to see you, too." Apollo combs his fingers through his hair, trying to make it stick up to no avail. It's soaked through, just like the rest of him, and the air conditioning in here is _really_ not helping. Apollo's clothes are hanging off of him heavily, draped on him in the most uncomfortable way.

"Didn't check the forecast?" Mr. Wright appears in the hallway, holding out a towel with an understanding smile. Apollo takes it gratefully, running it over his face and hair. At this point, he doesn't care where it's been, even if it does belong to the Wrights.

"I did! It was wrong yesterday, though." Apollo tries defending himself, but for a defense attorney, he didn't do all that great a job- at least, judging by how Mr. Wright is laughing. You know, he's cold and drenched already, this is _really_ unnecessary.

"Why do you guys have a towel, anyways?" Apollo tries to change the subject, deflecting from his humiliation.

Mr. Wright coughs loudly, almost stage-like, glancing over at Trucy.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Trucy says, hands on her hips. "I only flooded the agency once!"

"That's one time too many!" Mr. Wright insists.

"It's art, Daddy! Performance art!" Trucy pulls a face, adjusting her hat.

"Good to know! I think I'll submit my soggy papers to a museum, then." Mr. Wright rolls his eyes.

"You don't submit performance art to a museum!"

"Well my papers certainly weren't performing, considering how blurry and unreadable the ink got!"

"Uh…" Apollo isn't sure if he wants to ask how these two thought a _towel_ could solve a _flood._ Wright logic, he supposes (which is just a fancy name for _no logic at all._ )

Mr. Wright glances over at Apollo, as though he just remembered that Apollo is here. He blinks, like it's the first time he's seen Apollo today, like he's remembered something he needs to tell Apollo. "Uh... you ok? After… yesterday?"

"What?" How does Mr. Wright know about _that?_

Apollo's face scrunches as he tries to place the question. Oh, Mr. Wright is talking about the Kristoph thing. "Oh, yeah! I'm fine."

"Klavier's still at home?" Mr. Wright asks.

"Yeah." It's easier to nod.

"Poor guy." Mr. Wright shakes his head sympathetically.

Apollo closes his eyes. Poor guy, indeed. Klavier isn't far from his thoughts, not after this morning...

 _Apollo stirs. His alarm clock seems more distant than usual, and he feels kind of sore and uncomfortable-_

 _His eyes snap open, and his heart races. Where the fuck is he? It feels familiar, like he should know where he is, but all he can see is a carpet and the leg of a coffee table-_

 _Apollo blinks. Right. He's on the floor of his and Klavier's living room, but… why?_

 _Apollo closes his eyes again, feels the lull of sleep, but tries to remember last night. Right, he brushed his teeth as usual, went to bed, dreamed…_

 _Oh. Right, he had some really bad nightmares- they're a little hard to grasp now, but he remembers a paralyzing fear, heart-pounding panic, the sight of-_

 _Fuck. Now all he can see in his mind's eye is Klavier's dead body, and Apollo has to open his eyes, inhaling sharply. He turns to the side, realizing that he's still seated on the floor, next to the couch. He must have fallen asleep like this, hand in Klavier's._

 _Apollo smiles at the sight. Their hands are still clasped, sweaty and hot from the hours they'd spent in contact, but linked as tightly as when Apollo had first sat down here._

 _Apollo groans when he tries to stand. His back must not have liked sleeping in a sitting position for a few hours, because it's screaming at him in jabs of pain. His legs are a little cramped, too._

 _Klavier makes a little grunting sound when Apollo unlocks their fingers, rolling over and looking at Apollo. "Schatz? W'time is it?"_

 _Apollo smiles at the sight of Klavier, awake and making eye contact and lazily sleepy. He's fine. Klavier is fine. "Time to go to work. Staying home again?"_

 _Klavier nods, and Apollo stumbles back to the bedroom and into the closet. He grabs his court stuff and shrugs it on, thanking his past self for packing his briefcase last night and leaving it by the door. Now it'll just be a bike ride to work, and he'll be all set. (The forecast said something about rain last night, but Apollo thinks he can make it to work before the rain starts. It was supposed to start yesterday, anyways, it's already late.)_

 _Apollo heads for the door without breakfast, he can probably grab something to eat at the Wrights'- though goddamn, he needs to keep these rushed mornings from becoming a habit._

 _He only stops for Klavier, still splayed out on the couch. The memories come flooding back- Apollo accusing Klavier, Apollo apologizing, Klavier distancing himself, Apollo's bracelet (fuck, it's still on the kitchen table, it's too late to get it now Apollo guesses, not like he needs it today anyways, he'll grab it later)._

 _Apollo stares at Klavier, whose eyes are closed now, and Apollo's sure that his own expression is a mess. He doesn't know what to feel, he can't feel anything except for the simple need for everything to be easy, for the two of them to be happy, living in domestic bliss._

 _Apollo leans down, fisting his hand in Klavier's shirt (it must be caught in the sofa or something, it's less loose and harder to grab than usual) and dragging Klavier towards him. Klavier almost seems surprised when their lips connect; he makes a noise that almost sounds like… he's impressed? Apollo never was good at reading noises like this, not while he's kissing someone like Klavier._

 _Apollo kisses Klavier insistently, almost like it's a promise: they **will** get through this, and they'll do it together. Klavier is breathing a bit more heavily when they finally part, like he was taken off guard. _

_Apollo smirks. It feels weird to be reaching down to kiss Klavier. "I'm finally taller than you."_

 _Klavier returns the smile from the couch, head leaning against the armrest. "Ja."_

 _"Honestly, it's like you're only growing." Apollo snickers, grabbing his briefcase and shouldering it. "See you tonight."_

 _Klavier waves. "Same for you, ja?"_

Apollo sighs. "Klavier and I argued a bit last night. I thought… I wondered if Klavier had anything to do with it."

Mr. Wright winces, and Trucy rolls her eyes. "Nice going, Polly."

"I'm…" Apollo feels a wealth of emotion again, like the crest of a wave. It's crashing on him, saltwater rushing around and pressure on his head. Is he really about to unload on his boss and boss' daughter?! "Fuck, lately it's just been… _hard_. It's like Klavier doesn't trust me anymore, like he doesn't want me around and… I know that's normal; he wants to do everything by himself, but this time he nearly told me to leave, acting like he's some huge burden or something!"

Apollo's pretty sure that sentence was a run-on, but he can't stop. Everything comes rushing out. "Then Klavier got all distant, and it's only getting worse now that Kristoph's presence is back, and there's this huge _weight_ everywhere, everyone's scared, and Klavier is only getting farther and farther away, and I'm not helping, I'm arguing with him and not trusting him either… and I'm an awful lawyer, I'm not doing as much as I should, I'm only hurting everyone!"

Apollo realizes how ridiculous this must sound. He's ranting about his relationship issues to his boss, dripping wet and clutching at a towel in the entryway of the office. It just… it just feels like everything is falling apart and coming down on Apollo's head, knocking the wind out of him.

Mr. Wright seems a little taken aback. "Apollo…"

He sighs. "Listen. I can tell you that you're doing fine at work, and any criticism is me teasing. You're a wonderful lawyer, Apollo, and even through all of this, I believe in you."

Apollo looks up. That… he's grateful. It feels real, and that's all he wants, now.

Mr. Wright's face twists, like he's thinking. "I can't say anything for Klavier, but it sounds like you're trying, and sometimes that's all you can do."

Apollo's gut twists. He doesn't _want_ all he can do, he _wants_ to solve it! In a situation like this, _you tried your best_ is less of a comfort than it is a criticism. _You tried your best_ is code for _you weren't good enough,_ and Apollo isn't about to let this go to rest. He _has_ to be good enough. He _has_ to solve this.

Trucy stares at the way Apollo's face contorts, the way his jaw clenches, and decides to pipe up. "It's ok, Polly. I'm pretty sure everyone's been feeling bad lately. You've just gotta smile, it makes you feel better."

Apollo's face goes blank as he stares at her. What?

Trucy stares right back, a determined look on her face. "Do it!"

Apollo tries for a smile, but it just feels like he's stretching his lips, curved a little. It feels unnatural and weird.

Trucy looks positively disappointed. "Like you mean it!"

Apollo thinks of sitting at the piano, playing Moonlight Sonata with Klavier. There's a rush, as he remembers the feel of Klavier next to him, the way his hands fly and the music fills the room.

He doesn't even notice that he's smiling until Trucy gives him a grin of her own. "See?"

Apollo feels his shoulders drop, and he lets go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thanks, Truce."

Trucy flashes him a thumbs up. "Welcome, Polly!"

She scans him up and down, staring at his suit- which is still pretty damp, by the way. "Are you drier, now?"

"Yeah. Warmer, too. I feel way better." This is the best Apollo has felt all day, actually. Maybe there's a method to the Wrights' madness.

Mr. Wright looks like he's thinking. A dangerous thing, really. "The rain isn't stopping for awhile. Do you want Miles to drive you home after you're done here?"

"Nah, I don't want to trouble you guys. I'll just take the subway." There's a station close to Apollo and Klaviers' house. It'd be easier than having Mr. Edgeworth drive Apollo, that's for sure. "Is it alright if I leave my bike here?"

"'Course. But are you sure?" Mr. Wright asks again.

"Yeah." Apollo replies, waving a hand. "Besides, this is supposed to be better for the environment, right? Might as well earn my present from the earth day fairy."

Mr. Wright looks like he had a response ready, but now that he's heard Apollo he just rolls his eyes, caught off guard. " _Earth day fairy_." He repeats.

Apollo flashes a grin. "What, you don't believe?"

Mr. Wright snorts, letting that be his answer. "You're dry enough now, all right. Get to work, Earth Day Fairy Boy."

* * *

 **thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

**rip**

* * *

"Coffee?"

Apollo starts. What?

He glances over. Oh, there's a man sitting next to him in the other subway seat, and-

Apollo's eyes widen, and his brain whirrs into overdrive. _It's_ _Kristoph._

Apollo jerks backwards, and it's all he can do not to yelp. _What? How is this possible? How did Kristoph find him so quickly? What the hell? What the fuck? Apollo doesn't deserve this; he doesn't deserve to die like this, in a subway, with ten million different witnesses-_

Apollo breathes in and out steadily until he can hear his heart rate slowing, still pounding in his ears. His vision clears, and he almost wants to laugh with hysteria. It isn't Kristoph. Fuck, he's stressed. Now he's seeing Kristoph in random guys on the subway, probably just trying to be polite.

Of course this isn't Kristoph, that would be ridiculous- and a little too coincidental. Besides, this guy is a bit shorter, his hair is shoulder-length at best (Apollo can't tell that well under the slick raincoat hood he's wearing), and he has stubble on his chin (Kristoph always shaves- _always._ That, or he doesn't grow hair). The sunglasses look too big and cheap to be Kristoph, anyways.

Apollo tries to recover from his little heart attack, and the guy politely pretends not to notice. What did he want, again? He's offering coffee, isn't he? That's really weird, considering that he only has one cup, obviously purchased for himself. Does the guy not like it or something? Is… he flirting? Apollo doesn't get hit on, often, but with those sunglasses on, who even knows what this guy is. All Apollo knows is that he's the type to offer coffee to random people on the subway.

"Nah. I'm fine." Apollo's voice still sounds shaky, but it's passable enough. Truth be told, he could use some coffee, but Apollo's seen too many poisoning cases by coffee to take a cup from just anyone- especially a random stranger on the subway. He probably should be thinking of Drew Misham, the case he worked on, but all he can think about is that defense attorney from all those years ago that went into a coma for like, 5 years, and came out of it with white hair and a weird visor. Apollo likes his hair brown, thank you very much.

The man shrugs. "You look troubled."

Apollo doesn't really make a habit of talking to random people on the subway- actually, he's one of those people who shies away, putting in headphones and staring pointedly out of a window. He's got nothing better to do, though, and the guy seems persistent. "Yeah. I guess you could say that."

Apollo's mind flashes to Klavier- gorgeous, talented, genius Klavier, doomed to never ending dissatisfaction because he has a brother. Because his brother happens to be Kristoph Gavin. Because he happens to be Klavier Gavin, a man too sweet and eager to please that he never says no.

 _Troubled_ just scratches the surface.

"It's just-" Apollo begins, and he snickers suddenly, as a thought hits him. "I must sound like a teenager, but- it's just _not fair._ "

The man takes a drink of the coffee, and he chuckles lowly. "Life's never fair. The only difference between you and others is how you react to the injustice of it all."

Apollo is taken aback. Who the hell is this guy? He's either a philosophy major or the mentor from a fantasy novel. Apollo can't decide which is worse- although, Apollo _would_ probably look cool with a magic sword. Not that he thinks that random badly dressed guys on the subway have magic swords to offer him.

"What do you mean?" Apollo asks, staring into the man's coffee. Apollo can see his reflection in it, even though it's nearly black. All Apollo can think is that Klavier likes his with a million different embellishments. Klavier's favorite is hazelnut.

"Injustice _makes_ people, no?" the man asks, and the _no_ sounds a little weird to Apollo, like it's unnatural. "It's the catalyst that drives people. Your reaction makes you different to me, as it makes you different to any other person."

The coffee shakes as the subway rattles on, and there are little ripples in the liquid, distorting Apollo's reflection. The man goes on. "If life was fair, would you be the same person?"

Apollo doesn't want to leave it at that. It's not that simple, it's not that getting hurt is all that makes up a person. Fuck, there's a _reason_ he keeps on going! "My _name_ is justice. I can't just let life be unfair!"

The man doesn't do anything, and Apollo clenches his fists, thinking of Klavier. " _Damn it_ , he deserves better!"

He half expects the man to ask _who,_ but he just chuckles, weird as ever. "Fighting."

"What?" Apollo doesn't sound as shocked as before, he was expecting for the man to do something weird. The word does seem rather random, though.

The man moves to explain. "That's your reaction. You're fighting. You're fighting a law of nature."

He pauses, and adds something on. "…Justice."

Apollo's confused, until he realizes it's an attempt at his name. Oh right. He did mention that.

"Better than nothing." Apollo half-mutters. He can't stop fighting. He won't let Klavier go like this without a fight.

He can only sigh. "And it's Apollo. Apollo Justice."

The man nods. "Nice to meet you."

There's a rumble from the subway, and the coffee shakes again. They grind to a stop, and Apollo runs through the relevant part of the map in his head. Right, he has two more stops before he gets off.

The man sits back, leaning his head against the seat. "Actions speak louder than words. People are what they do- it's not a _new_ sentiment. All that it means is that you are defined by your reaction to that which is unfair."

Apollo closes his eyes. He doesn't want to- _fuck_ , the man sounds like he's giving up. There's more to the world than unfairness, and there's more to unfairness than simple presence- it's defeatable. Apollo fights it every day. That's his _job._

It's been quiet for a while when Apollo speaks again. "Nothing."

"Hmm?" The man asks. He sounds mildly interested.

"You're doing nothing." Apollo looks down, nearly muttering to himself. "You've observed, you know that the world is unfair, but you haven't done anything about it. That's what's defining you- inaction."

The man is silent after this- oddly silent. He looks somber now, lips pressed into a thin line as though he's trying hard to keep himself together. He's still leaned against the seat, head lying back. For a split second, his lip trembles, and Apollo hopes that he hasn't offended the man. He didn't mean to.

"You're saying…" the man says, voice suddenly hoarse, "you're saying that… that I need to fight?"

Well, when you put it like that… Apollo shakes his head. "No, I just think… you should do what you can. If something's unfair. You should do whatever you think will help, I guess."

The man nods, before the subway stops again. There are people bustling out of the windows, no longer blurs in front of dusty grey walls now that the subway has slowed down. There are a couple of ads on the walls that Apollo automatically tunes out, and a couple of benches sprinkled in the crowd.

"Thank you," the man says, standing suddenly.

"You're welcome," Apollo replies out of reflex.

Wait.

Why the hell is the man thanking Apollo? _He_ offered Apollo a coffee, not the other way around. Well, Apollo means, they talked and all, but Apollo's advice was… was that even advice? It was more like… vague almost-philosophy.

Apollo shrugs. To each his own, he guesses.

Apollo leans against the window, and he can see his reflection again- this time in the glass. It's clearer than it was in the cup of coffee, obviously, and it doesn't shake each time the subway moves. He can see parts of people in the reflection, and his own eyes scanning the scene.

Apollo shakes his head. Either way, that was weird as hell.

* * *

 **when will my reflection show**

 **who I am**

 **inside**


	15. Chapter 15

**rip in pieces**

* * *

Apollo finally steps out of the subway station, inhaling deeply at the scent of fresh air. He's always loved the quality outside just after a rainstorm, when the air is earthy and tranquil. It feels like the whole world has been washed.

Apollo's mood only improves as he starts on the sidewalk, headed home. He likes walking almost as much as he likes biking. It clears his head to keep on moving, to have the thuds of his feet on the ground to fuel his thoughts. That's why Apollo chooses to bike to work, even though Klavier has more than enough money to buy Apollo several cars.

Besides, Apollo thinks as he looks up, the scenery on days like this makes it all damn well worth it. There are puddles spaced around and water trickling into drains, grassy areas damp and heavy. The sun has just begun peeking out from behind a cloud, tingeing the sky a shy blue. It's gorgeous all around, and Apollo needs some pretty scenery. He's been thinking too damn much lately.

Apollo sighs. He needs a break. Everything has just been _weird_ lately. Klavier's acting more unusual, the Wrights are being all understanding, Kristoph is back-

Apollo stops in his tracks. Kristoph. As much as he doesn't want to be on this subject again, Apollo… Apollo can't even begin to _think_ about Kristoph, even what he'd _do_ when encountered with his former boss.

No, Apollo shakes his head to no one in particular; Kristoph had been more than just a former boss. Kristoph had been a mentor, a father figure, a guiding force and safety net for everything Apollo needed or wanted. He feels like so much _more_ than a loss, like a hole- not a passive thing gone, but an active one, sucking up parts of Apollo's life. Apollo's boyfriend, his personality, his job, _everything_ in Apollo's life has Kristoph's fingerprints all over it, poison left there to wreak havoc in Kristoph's absence.

There's something hot at Apollo's eyes, and Apollo blinks.

No. He's not crying for Kristoph.

 _Never_.

Blinking brings Apollo back to where he's standing, and he realizes that he's staring down at a puddle. It's a kind of murky color, with dirt lining the sides, but clear enough for him to see himself. His expression honestly looks... lost, confused.

Apollo nearly snickers aloud. Who isn't, lately?

Apollo steps around the puddle, shaking his head. He doesn't need to overthink this. He's just a block from being home. Apollo's honestly hungry enough to make dinner the second he's home again. Apollo and Klavier are out of pasta now, though, so maybe they can make something else?

Apollo sighs. That sounds _nice_. Cooking with a content Klavier sounds heavenly, filled with kisses over frying pans and hugs coming from behind.

Apollo starts the walk up his and Klaviers' driveway. Yeah, that sounds like a nice time. Mr. Wright certainly won't blame Apollo for taking an evening off, not after this past week. Maybe Apollo can even fix things with Klavier. It feels like he's on the right track after this morning, anyways.

"Hey Klav, I'm home!" Apollo yells the instant he opens the door, closing it behind him. He scans the entryway : it's empty, and Apollo can see that the living room is empty, too (it's just after the entryway, clearly visible from the entrance). Where is Klavier, anyways?

"Guten tag!"

Apollo relaxes the second he hears Klavier's voice, coming off of the left. He must be in his office. Is he working?

Apollo shoulders his bag, headed for the office. This is interesting. If Klavier is working, that means that either he feels better, or he's back to his classic coping method of throwing himself into his work until he forgets everything around him. Apollo hopes for the former.

Apollo ducks into the office. "Klavier?"

Klavier looks up over the screen of his laptop with a smile. "Ja?"

"You feeling better?" Apollo drops his bag on the sofa by the side of Klavier's office, just barely catching Klavier's nod.

"Much, ja." Klavier leans back from the computer. "How was your day?"

"Meh. The usual." Apollo isn't sure if he wants to admit how he was feeling earlier. They're just talking; after all. Apollo doesn't really want to start the emotional bombshell up this early. "Are you in the mood for a break?"

Klavier edges his computer away, leaning over his desk and batting his eyelashes. "That depends, liebling. What do you have in mind?"

"Oh yeah, you're definitely feeling better." Apollo rolls his eyes, and Klavier makes an offended noise. "Actually, do you want to make dinner together again?"

Klavier shuts the lid of his computer. "Ja! Sounds fun!"

Apollo breathes a sigh of relief. This… this feels like Saturday, making pasta together, or Sunday, playing the piano. Sometimes it feels like between all of the baggage they share and talk through, Apollo and Klavier forget how to relax together. It's good to know that Klavier's not holding last night against Apollo, even if it does turn out that his acting normal is just a cover. They should just take a break and enjoy this evening- heaven only knows, Apollo needs some time away from stress.

Apollo waves Klavier over to the hallway (he has to remember that he left his bag in Klavier's office, he'll need it for tomorrow) and it's a short walk to the kitchen from there.

Apollo washes his hands quickly before opening the fridge, searching through. He can hear footsteps as Klavier comes from behind, also looking at their choices.

"We can make chicken," Apollo suggests, grabbing it from the fridge and tossing it onto the kitchen island. Klavier nods, and Apollo nudges the fridge closed. They can probably have a side of potatoes or rice or something. Apollo can probably cook some chicken, you just have to stick it in the oven, right?

Klavier reaches towards the food, and Apollo nudges him out of the way. "Hey!"

"Was?" Klavier asks.

"Go wash your hands, Klavier. You were just sick." Apollo points firmly to the sink.

Klavier tries to wave it off. "Ach, schatz, it's nothing-"

"For fuck's sake, Klavier, _now,_ " Apollo plants his hands on Klavier's back, directing him to the sink. Jeez, talk about hypocrisy. One day Klavier won't sleep in the same _bed_ as Apollo for fear of germs, the next he doesn't even want to wash his hands.

"Ja, ja, alright, liebling, I will." Klavier turns on the water. "Will you go get the ingredients from the pantry?"

"Yeah." Apollo walks to the pantry quickly, scanning the shelves the moment he's there. He needs to get-

Wait.

What is he looking for, exactly?

Apollo ducks back into the kitchen. "Hey, Klavier?"

Klavier jumps at the sound of Apollo's voice, like he's just been caught doing something illegal.

Wait… now that Apollo thinks about it, Klavier was acting weirdly adverse to the idea of washing his hands, particularly in front of Apollo. What the fuck is going on?

Apollo's eyes flick to the water, pouring over Klavier's hands. Something is off, he can tell, but he doesn't know quite what yet. It's like those mental exercises where you're given two images, and meant to find the differences between. Apollo never was good at those.

Oh. There's something becoming clearer on Klavier's hand, like a cover is being washed off- although, why someone would wear- is that makeup?- on their hand, Apollo can't guess. He's learned not to question Klavier, though, even when it gets as weird as this.

It looks like a scratch. Apollo's stomach flips- has Klavier been hurting himself?! Fuck, if this is self-harm, _and_ he's hiding it, Apollo needs to help. Badly.

Apollo curses in his head, walking over as quickly as he can. Fuck. Apollo _knew_ that something was wrong, he _knew_ that Klavier was acting normal to hide something, fuck, how did it take so long to realize this?

Apollo grabs for the hand, drawing it out of the water. Klavier immediately tries to jerk away, but Apollo holds tight.

"Let me-" Apollo starts, but he never finishes the thought. Everything in his brain short fuses when he sees the mark.

It's not a scratch.

It's a _scar_.

Apollo's looking into the face of the devil.

* * *

 **and so, with the power of good hygiene, Apollo has foiled many plans. the frozen chicken is the real hero here, folks.**

 **(yeah, this is the super obvious plot twist you all saw coming. whelp)**


	16. Chapter 16

**time for more ~fun~!**

* * *

The man sighs. "Ever the snoop, aren't we, Justice?"

Apollo drops the hand and backs away. There's something in his head chanting fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck in a neverending loop. Suddenly, everything comes flooding back- how Klavier almost seemed taller, how he called Apollo by name, the makeup hiding the marks on his hand.

The context falls into place, and now Apollo gets it. The only word Apollo can think is _fuck_ , it's the only word he can think of to summarize just how taken off guard and utterly destroyed he feels right now.

 _Fuck._ Apollo understands, now. He isn't sure how this is possible. This all feels like a really bad soap opera plot, but Apollo's sure of one thing right now.

That man isn't Klavier.

"Odd. I could have sworn this was waterproof." The man cocks his head, studying his hand with an air of faint amusement. The movement, the voice, the condescending chuckle in his voice... it's all so horribly familiar.

Apollo doesn't want to think it. He doesn't want to acknowledge who it really is. Somehow, it feels like giving the man a name will make it _really_ him, and that's the last thing Apollo wants. _Please let this be a dream. Please don't let this be real. Please. Please don't let that man notice that Apollo's figured it out, please let everything just go back to the way it was. Please._

Apollo jumps as something cold hits his back, only to realize that he's backed into the other counter. The man is staring. Apollo's been silent for a while now, nervously backing away with eyes so wide they must be taking up half of his face.

Fuck, now Apollo's literally cornered. This can't end well.

Apollo can only grip the edge of the counter, holding his breath. He's starting to get frustrated with himself. Apollo's not a coward, he's not going to back away trembling before anything has actually happened! For fuck's sake, he can say a name! Come on, Apollo! The first step to solving a problem is admitting you have it, right?

"K-Kristoph?" The only thing trembling more than Apollo is his voice. Somehow, saying _that name_ aloud makes everything feel more concrete, and Apollo's taken aback again. This isn't Klavier, it's _Kristoph…_ is… is this even _possible?_

Apollo guesses so. It feels like the suspicion was lurking somewhere in the back of Apollo's mind, but he'd never really entertained the possibility. It's too ridiculous, too outlandish to imagine. Apollo still feels like he's caught in a bad fever dream, like this is a hallucination, another nightmare it feels like he'll never wake up from.

This _can't_ be real.

Klavier _can't_ have been Kristoph all along, fitting into Klavier's clothes and role as easily as the real Klavier. That's… it can't be…

Kristoph laughs menacingly in response, and if Apollo wasn't sure that this is Kristoph before, Apollo is now. Klavier isn't _capable_ of that glint of darkness in his laugh, that smile laced with poison. Apollo's insides are twisting, it's getting harder and harder to take breaths. How did he fall for this for so long?

Kristoph takes a breath, shaking his head. "Oh, Justice, I've missed you. You always had this naïve streak, one that made you so unable and unwilling to dig _deep_ enough to uncover the truth."

"H-how did you…" Apollo's trembling, he isn't sure if he can manage words. Everything is shaking; the world is vibrating in his head.

"How did I fool you?" Apollo feels a chill run down his spine as Kristoph glares at him- Kristoph's eyes are like daggers, icy and blue. It's like he's reading Apollo's mind, just like he did when Apollo was twenty and impressionable, just like he did to tell Apollo exactly what Apollo wanted.

Remembering Kristoph and his subtle dominance makes Apollo feel more vulnerable than ever- especially now, without the glasses as a buffer between them. It's harder to think of fighting without that convenient glare, when nothing is standing between Apollo and Kristoph.

"You overestimate yourself, Justice. You think you _knew_ my brother?" Kristoph snickers, seeming entertained at the very thought. "You never got farther than the surface. What you recognize as Klavier Gavin is a _character,_ a carefully constructed and well-acted _persona_."

H-hang on! That isn't true!

Anger begins to steady Apollo and he balls his fists around the edge of the counter, trying to keep a scowl off of his face. Oh come on, Apollo _does_ know Klavier! He's certainly seen enough of Klavier to know that Kristoph is a manipulative control-freak, that's for sure. Apollo's seen the bloody aftermath of Kristoph, how Klavier's slowly rebuilding himself behind the walls he puts up just in order to feel _safe_. Don't tell Apollo that he hasn't seen the real Klavier, because god _damn_ it, he has.

"As for the persona…" Kristoph brushes a fringe of hair, exactly like Klavier would, and the sight sets Apollo on edge again. It's something that's always made him smile, to the point where he's only barely able to stop himself from smiling now. Kristoph is using Klavier's mannerisms against Apollo, and Apollo isn't sure he can take it. Kristoph _knows_ that this unsettles Apollo, he knows how Apollo relies on familiar things to keep him going.

"There's a reason my brother uses this persona, Justice. It's remarkably easy to use…" Kristoph leans in, hands on his hips, and flashes a smile. "…ja?"

Apollo feels like he's going to vomit. His legs are trembling under him. This is… this is _insane;_ this can't be happening- it comes so _naturally_ to Kristoph, like he doesn't have to try at all.

"N-no." Apollo's completely leaning against the counter now, he doesn't trust his shuddering legs to keep him standing. He- fuck, it still feels like he's in denial. Apollo can't make himself _move,_ he can't even imagine what he'd _do_ if he could.

There's a laugh from Kristoph, something that sounds equally pleased with himself and ready to mock Apollo. It's the last thing Apollo hears before Kristoph's walking away, turning around and just leaving. He's not even wary of turning his back to Apollo, it's like he _knows_ that Apollo is too petrified to be a threat.

Oh, right. All he's seen this week is Apollo worrying about Kristoph at every turn and having nightmares about him.

Fuck.

Apollo swallows. He doesn't stand a chance. By pretending to be Klavier, Kristoph's effectively seen all of Apollo's weak spots. Apollo is _vulnerable_ around Klavier; he's honest and transparent in ways that make him not only beatable, but easy _to_ beat.

As though Kristoph didn't _already_ have an edge.

Kristoph is in the living room, going through a cabinet, and it's a little easier to breathe without those piercing eyes on Apollo. Apollo takes the opportunity to unglue his fingers from the counter. _Come on, Apollo. You can do this. Deep breaths. You're not scared of him anymore._

Apollo lets go of the counter, surprised to find that he can stand without the support- _yes!-_ and that his heartbeat isn't echoing around in his head anymore. It's more muted now- still audible, but not as overpowering as earlier.

Apollo _can_ do this! So yeah, he's still shaky from a sudden burst of adrenaline, but Apollo can do this!

Apollo starts off towards the living room. _Come on, Apollo. You can do this. You can do this._ He has to know what Kristoph's up to and what he's planning, to beat him once and for all. Apollo's beaten Kristoph before (twice!) and he can do it again. Apollo can do it. Apollo can fight Kristoph.

Apollo is not three steps into the living room before he's caught off guard, jumping as his heart begins to pound. There's something suddenly aiming directly at his face, and he's shaking again.

So much for fighting back.

"Ah, there it is." Kristoph says in a cheery voice.

It takes Apollo a second to place what's pointed at his face, and- w- oh _come on,_ Apollo _lives here!_ He should have noticed that Kristoph was keeping a fucking gun _in his fucking living room_!

Apollo scans the rest of the room and notices which cabinet is swinging, moving from being recently opened- and oh, it's high off the ground. Right, Kristoph knows how tall Apollo is. Bastard.

"I'm sorry," Kristoph says, fiddling with the gun, "and quite honestly, disappointed. Your death was to be far more elegant than this. Although, I suppose it's no one's fault but your own, in the end. We can't have you telling anybody about this, can we?"

Apollo manages to shoot a glare at Kristoph, only now aware that he's holding his hands up in the surrender sign- because of _course_ Kristoph will take a surrender from _Apollo,_ good job knee-jerk responses- and standing frozen with muscles locked in place, only a few feet away from Kristoph in the living room.

"Don't do this." Apollo grits his teeth, dropping his arms and stepping to the side. He isn't sure what grounds he has to give _Kristoph_ orders, actually, but it can't hurt to try, right? It makes him _sound_ like he knows what he's doing, at least. Also his voice sounds a little less pitchy and pathetic now, right?

...it's all in the small victories.

"Justice, _honestly,_ hold still," Kristoph sighs, and there's a click from the gun. "It'll make the whole lot of this quicker and easier."

"I don't-" Apollo sputters. There goes his authority. "I-I'm not dying here!"

"Justice." Kristoph levels the gun at Apollo's head. Apollo's heart isn't pounding as much as it is an earthquake, echoing inside of him. One shot and he's dead.

"W-when?" Apollo gasps. He needs to bide for time. Stroke Kristoph's ego. Ask him about his _brilliant_ plan. "When did you switch?"

Kristoph narrows his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Monday."

Okay, so that is a little obvious. That's probably why-

Fuck, Klavier's speech on Monday morning suddenly makes sense now.

 _Whatever "I" do…_

Apollo's suddenly struck with a horrible thought. There's a bit of a missing link that he's seeing here, and he isn't sure if he wants to know the answer to the question-

Fuck it. He needs to know.

"Wh- where's the real Klavier?" Apollo asks, and Kristoph snickers.

The sound only gets louder until Kristoph is outright laughing, and Apollo feels everything in him sinking, stomach plummeting and heart cracking. It's as though Apollo's asked something funny. "A liability like that? Dead, of course."

 _No._

 _No._

 _No._

 _No._

 _No._

Apollo feels a rush, and heat is building up behind his rapidly blurring eyes. No. That… that isn't possible. No. He's already been through so much today, please, no. Please don't let Klavier be-

It's Apollo's nightmare from last night again, Apollo's sure of it. Kristoph is back in Apollo's house and about to kill Apollo, Apollo feels helpless and useless, and now it's time for the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle of Apollo's greatest fears.

 _No._

Klavier can't be gone. Not like this. Please, no.

Apollo feels torn, caught between his swimming head and wet eyes and the way his fists are balling, the way his stance shifts as though he's going to _punch_ Kristoph. H-how dare Kristoph, anyways? He- this is the last straw, Kristoph can't do this!

Kristoph is just _watching_ like the fucking asshole he is, there's a little pleasant smile on his face as he watches Apollo struggle, flashing through emotions strong enough to collapse him. Apollo can't- he didn't think it would ever be real, he prayed and hoped that it would never be real-

Except this is worse than his dream, far worse. Apollo doesn't even have the sight of Klavier, the lifeless hand to touch and the confirmation that Klavier existed _once._ Klavier's just _gone,_ vanished with a single word from Kristoph. No warning, _nothing_ but the sobering _shock_ of it all, that Klavier Gavin is dead. Turns out that Apollo's intuitions were right on Monday morning, because Apollo's never seeing Klavier again- not his shining smile, not his dumb German, not his electric guitar riffs in court, not his beautifully styled hair or his crushing hugs, not his persistent kisses from lips bright with lip gloss or the way he cuddles up next to Apollo in the dead of the night, when the nightmare is gone and Apollo's destroyed everything he's ever been afraid of.

Apollo's eyes are welling with tears, and he doesn't know if he should even try to hold them back. Maybe Apollo deserves this. After all, Apollo never even _noticed_ that Klavier was gone. Now he's gone forever, and Apollo didn't even _suspect-_

Apollo starts at a sudden click from the gun. He can't do anything more than stare up at Kristoph, eyes wide.

"If you're _quite_ finished, it's time for you to join my _dear_ brother." Kristoph snarls.

* * *

 **I'm not sorry not even a little bit**


	17. Chapter 17

**this is gonna get rough kidz keep ur hands and feet inside of the vehicle at all times**

* * *

There's a barrel of a gun right in front of him, only a few inches away from his face, and all Apollo can make himself do is stare. His expression has gone blank, like everything has been washed away. The gun doesn't feel as threatening anymore. It barely feels like anything now.

All of a sudden, there's a part of Apollo that's wondering how bad it really is to die.

Apollo faintly remembers seeing a newspaper article or something a few years ago, in which someone being channeled was interviewed. Of course, the first thing they were asked about was death- more specifically, what it's like to die (human curiosity at its finest). From what Apollo recalls, they said that it's exactly like falling asleep, closing your eyes as the world fades to black. The flash of pain is instantaneous, and then it's all gone. Everything is gone.

Yeah, that doesn't sound too bad. It already _feels_ like everything is gone, with how undoubtedly emptier the world is without Klavier Gavin. The room's gotten darker, somehow, and less saturated- or maybe Apollo just can't bring himself to notice the color or light, maybe it's too much for his bleached brain to comprehend.

Falling asleep sounds nice, actually, even if it is for forever. Apollo's been really tired lately, anyways. Maybe Kristoph has a point- as usual. He always did know Apollo better than Apollo knew himself. Kristoph's right, it would be nice to fall asleep with Klavier again. This time they can leave to a world where neither of them will ever wake up, where they're safe forever. No one will start thrashing with nightmares or stress, and there will be no inevitable light of day.

Actually, the more Apollo thinks about it, the more dying doesn't seem that bad. Finally, he'll be able to forget himself, the person who happily ruined Klavier's life and couldn't fix it, the person who dug up every skeleton in Trucy's closet, the person who couldn't even defeat one man. Apollo's a hell of a failure, and really, him dying is probably for the best. After all, it's not like he'll never be able to break free of what's holding him now, the dark crushing defeat of knowing that Klavier is dead, that he's lost everything, that Kristoph is about to shoot Apollo without a second thought. Even if Apollo does live, he'll never be the same.

In the end, maybe it's better to embrace the darkness, forget the pain defining who Apollo Justice is.

Kristoph's still grinning, but the fire Apollo was feeling earlier is muted. He doesn't know if he cares anymore. Let Kristoph smile. He deserves it. He won.

Apollo closes his eyes. His death will be quick, right? This is point blank range. If Apollo's time in a courtroom has told him anything, it's that there's no way Kristoph can miss now. Apollo will be dead before he knows it, and dying will probably be the easiest thing he's ever done. He's just going to sleep, leaving after a long day.

Apollo exhales, and the dull pain in his chest is back. It's okay, though. It'll all be over soon. Apollo only needs to-

"That's _enough,_ Kris!"

 _Wait, what?_

Apollo and Kristoph both whip around at the new voice, a sudden yell from the entryway. It sounds weirdly clear in comparison to everything else, like Apollo's just resurfaced from being underwater.

Apollo's heart is hammering in his chest. That _voice…_ there's something about it. It almost sounds like-

Apollo's eyes catch up to his hearing, and he squints at the figure in the doorway. The pants look vaguely familiar, as does the stubble-studded jaw, and Apollo can swear that he's heard that voice before.

Suddenly, it hits Apollo.

Hang on.

Is that _weird subway guy?_ What the hell? How'd he get into Apollo's house, w- why the hell is he even here?! And how does he know Kristoph!?

Yeah, Apollo's pretty sure he's hallucinating now, because honestly, this is probably all a dream. There's no way this would all make sense otherwise.

Actually, Weird Subway Guy looks really different with his hoodie and tacky glasses off. Uncovered, his hair is shoulder length and a shiny blonde color. It's really choppy at the tips, though, almost like it was recently cut- and very messily, at that. His eyes are a light shade of blue, narrowed at Kristoph and caught in the midst of his harshly furrowed brow.

You know, now that most of his face is showing, the guy looks more familiar to Apollo. His voice sounds really different than earlier, too, like this is a more natural version of that super faint accent he had on the subway. Actually, when Apollo thinks about it...

 _No._

Apollo's internally yelling at himself, ordering himself not to be naive and stupid and desperate, because this is impossible. It's impossible, it _has_ to be impossible, but Apollo can't help but think that the guy looks like-

"Klavier." Kristoph's voice is monotone, barely controlled and dangerous. "Leave. This doesn't concern you."

 _Klavier._

Klavier's responding, Apollo can see his mouth moving, but it's like he's been muted. Apollo can't hear anything Klavier's saying, or Kristoph's response- not that Apollo cares.

Apollo's been caught up in a frenzy of euphoria, and everything is fading around him. It's like before, when nothing mattered, but better- nothing matters because everything is greying around a single person. Everything else shifting out of focus, because right now, there's nothing that matters more than Klavier. That guy in the doorway? It's _Klavier._ He's- fuck- he's _alive,_ he's _fine,_ he's right there!

Apollo's grin is threatening to stretch right off his face. He's laughing, though he's not entirely sure why. He can't help it, not with the way relief is bubbling up inside of him. Klavier is alive and well, he's fine, and he's here- oh fuck, he's probably here for _Apollo._ Not only is he fine, he still loves Apollo through it all. Klavier Gavin is back, baby, and he's here with a vengeance and a passion Apollo doesn't think he's seen before. The way Klavier's mouth is moving, the way he's staring daggers at Kristoph- it's all so animated and _real,_ it's probably the first thing today that Apollo can believe without a second thought.

 _Klavier's alive._ Apollo's shoulders shake and he's downright beaming. He has Klavier back. Fuck, this is so ridiculous. Kristoph still has a gun pointed at him, but Apollo can't care less. He's breaking down in hysterical laughter. Klavier is _alive._

Klavier stops whatever he's saying, pausing to turn to Apollo. At the sight of Apollo his expression changes from the stony glare he's giving Kristoph and softens to a caring gaze, one that Apollo didn't think he'd ever see again. Klavier's mouth is moving, from the shapes it forms Apollo thinks he's asking _are you alright?_

Apollo needs to respond. He gasps through shards of laughs, trying to muster the breath to say something back when Klavier's face suddenly changes.

Klavier's eyes widen, flying open in panic before they narrow back to a glare. His stance changes almost as though he's ready to fight, with his feet spread apart and teeth clenched.

Something's wrong. Apollo tries to ask what, what's wrong _,_ but finds that he can't for some reason. There's a sharp jab of pain in Apollo's neck, and it takes him too long to realize that there's something tightening around his throat. The room shakes as Apollo's shunted to the side, roughly yanked against something and held there.

"W-what?" Apollo hears a hoarse voice ask, barely registering that it was him before he starts to struggle. He's trapped somehow, something is holding him back. He's being pressed against something warm and solid, held in a vicelike grip.

Apollo's arms stop being useless and fly up, fingers clawing at whatever's slung around his throat. He needs to get out of this hold, he needs to get to Klavier!

Apollo's hands close around magenta fabric, and he recognizes it. This is Klavier's jacket, which means...

The arm is Kristoph.

 _Oh, fuck,_ Kristoph's the one who grabbed Apollo.

The arm around Apollo's neck is Kristoph's, the thing Apollo's back is being held stiflingly tight to is Kristoph's chest. Apollo's tightens his hands around Kristoph's forearm and tries to pull. He's yanking at Kristoph with everything he has, but it's no use. Turns out Kristoph isn't as weak as he looks.

Klavier steps forwards with an arm outstreched, panic clear on his face. "N-nein! Apollo!"

Apollo tries to say something comforting and reassuring, but all his brilliant brain can come up with are action movie clichés- _don't worry about me, I'll be fine, get Kristoph-_ which might have worked, if Apollo could say anything at all. It's hard to breathe with how Kristoph's holding Apollo. From what Apollo can tell, right now Kristoph's grip is tight enough to choke Apollo (which is probably the point, Apollo doesn't think Kristoph particularly cares if Apollo lives).

It hits Apollo then that he's being held hostage, and his mind whirrs into overdrive.

Oh fuck.

Apollo almost rolls his eyes. Oh, come on! Apollo isn't some damsel in distress, he's not about to be used against Klavier as a fucking pawn! This is so stupid, this is awful!

Apollo's thrashing against Kristoph's grip, trying to get out. He needs to get away- and not just because being this physically close to Kristoph is disgusting, it's because he doesn't want to be used, especially not against Klavier. Klavier will do anything Kristoph wants if Apollo's life hangs in the balance, Apollo's sure of it, and that must be exactly why Kristoph grabbed Apollo.

Apollo can't let this happen. He needs a plan, and quick. Maybe he can stomp on Kristoph's foot or something, or elbow him in the gut. Probably both would work. At the same time.

Unfortunately, the plans are both vetoed almost immediately. Kristoph's arm is only squeezing Apollo's neck more tightly the more time passes, and Apollo knows that if he stops struggling, he's done for. Kristoph has made sure that Apollo's arms are functionally useless, they're absolutely necessary to tug against Kristoph's arm. After all, they're the only thing keeping Kristoph from outright strangling Apollo. It turns out that it's hard to make up plans when you're preoccupied with trying to breathe.

Klavier's face contorts, and he grits his teeth. "I'm not _stupid,_ Kris. You wouldn't _actually_ kill Apollo. If you did, how would you control me?"

Oh, right. Klavier and Kristoph were having a conversation before, one Apollo didn't catch. Apollo needs to concentrate on that now.

Kristoph laughs, and it's the warmest Apollo's ever heard his laugh. "Were you always this naïve?"

Klavier doesn't answer, so Kristoph does it for him. "I suppose that you've always seen the world in shades of grey. To you everything is black, white or something in between. No _color,_ no _vibrancy_ to your view of glorified duality."

Kristoph pauses for an agonizing second, and it's almost like he's lost in thought. "When did you decide that I was purely evil, I wonder?"

"What are you saying, Kris?" Klavier is shaking, fists balled. He almost looks scary like this, trembling with a mix between fear and rage.

Apollo can't see it, but he's sure that Kristoph is smiling in that infuriatingly calm, patronizing way. "Simply that you act as though I'm unkind. After all, I have spared Apollo's life-" the arm around Apollo's neck tightens as Kristoph nudges Apollo a little, to draw Klavier's attention to the motion- "purely in a consideration to you."

Apollo feels a shiver run down his spine at how casually Kristoph mentions Apollo's life hanging in the balance. This really doesn't bode well for him.

"Apollo- his-" Klavier stammers unsteadily as he tries to wrap his mind around what Kristoph is saying.

Klavier's eyes narrow. "Schieße, Apollo's life isn't for you to decide! You're not a god, Kristoph!"

"Maybe not," Kristoph replies, and Apollo feels him stress the _maybe,_ "but as of the moment, Apollo's life _is_ for _me_ to decide- and don't think that I won't do it."

Klavier swallows. He looks a little less steady now that it's clear that Kristoph is serious.

"Do you know how vulnerable you would be, if he was dead?" The gun digs into Apollo's head to prove the point, cold metal pushing through brunette hair. "Do you know how easy it is to mold… to _control_ minds blinded by grief and loss?"

Apollo grimaces. Fuck. Kristoph has a point. That must be why he lied to Apollo earlier, about Klavier being dead. It _did_ work, after all.

It hits Apollo then that that him and Klavier are basically done for. Apollo lives? That means that Klavier's left, Kristoph has won- and he'll probably kill Apollo anyways, or incapacitate Apollo enough to keep his secret safe. Apollo dies? What little resistance Klavier has built up collapses, and Kristoph, in all of his controlling glory, has won. It's absolutely win-win for Kristoph.

Klavier grits his teeth. "Ja, you would know. You've had enough time to play with the heartbroken, make moves on your personal chess game of misery."

"Touchy, aren't we, Klavier?" The gun doesn't move. Apollo can feel his heart pounding, his death rushing towards him. Please let Klavier get out alive, at least. Please. "Is it that you've grown a conscience?"

"A brain, more like." Klavier's eyes are locked on the gun, glowing with intensity, as though he'd like to evaporate it. "I'm not here to be your pawn, Kristoph."

"I beg to differ." Apollo's sure that Kristoph's smile hasn't faded in the slightest. "You're in far too deep to leave now, Klavier. You may have forced me out of your mind for now; but-" the gun digs into the side of Apollo's head. "I've found a back door, it seems."

All things considered, it takes too long for Apollo to realize that Kristoph is talking about _Apollo_ when he mentions the other way into Klavier's head _._ (Well, duh. Apollo kind of has a gun to his head, being held hostage and all that jazz. Even so, Apollo _really_ hates being used as a pawn like this.)

Anger flashes in Klavier's eyes. "Don't-!"

Kristoph snickers. He really is amused by all of this, isn't he? "You're too obvious, Klavier. You don't so much wear your heart on your sleeve as you do show it off to everyone you meet, friend and enemy alike."

Klavier's fists are trembling with how hard he's clenching them, as he takes another step forwards. "I _swear,_ Kristoph, if you so much as lay a _finger_ on him-"

"You'll do what?" Klavier freezes instantly at the question, eyes shot wide. "You use words as a substitute for something you don't have, Klavier. Leave."

Apollo's mind snaps back into action. Klavier is looking uncertain again, almost as though he might comply with what Kristoph is saying. This is what Kristoph wants. Apollo can't let this happen!

"Don't-!" Apollo somehow manages, even with the arm at his throat. "He'll kill me anyways, don't-"

Apollo chokes, gagging, gasping for breath. The arm is pushing _hard,_ crushing his throat, and his lungs are burning. Apollo's eyes are beginning to water. He can't speak like this. Please, let Klavier have gotten the message. Please don't let Klavier go along-

Klavier looks torn, eyes shot wide and staring at Apollo. "Schatz-"

Everything is getting blurry. There's more pressure on Apollo's throat, and Kristoph's speaking again. "Leave. Now."

Klavier's eyes shine, his fists trembling. "N-nein! I'm not leaving Apollo with _you!_ "

Kristoph is beginning to sound frustrated. "Klavier, please stop acting like you have a choice. You _will_ leave either way. The only choice is whether you leave a living Apollo, or his corpse. The choice is yours, and it's looking awfully like any breath could be your boy toy's last."

It takes a second for Apollo to process the words, and w- h-hey! Apollo's not anyone's _boy toy!_ That is _too_ far! The fuck is Kristoph even on?!

Klavier shakes his head again, still defiant, but it looks like he's beginning to crack. His eyes are wide.

"Klavier." The gun is shoved against Apollo's head again, and Apollo tries to hide his wince. It's starting to get painful, the way it's digging into his scalp. "I will _not_ hesitate."

Klavier swallows. "I-" Klavier's teeth are chattering. " _Bitte,_ don't hurt him, _please_ , Kris!"

"Then _leave_ , don't tell anyone, and don't come back." Kristoph sounds downright annoyed now. Apollo fleetingly wonders how much farther he'll go with this ridiculous drama before he just shoots Apollo.

It's kind of funny. Dying seems worse than it did earlier now that Klavier's eyes are locked onto Apollo's, filled to the brim with fear. Death doesn't feel inviting anymore, now that Apollo will be leaving Klavier behind.

 _Apollo is sorry._

"Kris-"

"My patience has run out, Klavier." Apollo closes his eyes; he hopes that'll make it less painful. This has to be the end. Goodbye, Klavier, and fuck, Apollo's sorry. Apollo's sorry he never made a difference. He's sorry he can't do anything but stand here gasping for breath, he's sorry he can barely keep himself conscious as Klavier goes through hell. He's sorry.

Klavier mutters something colorful under his breath, he's begun fumbling around in a frenzy for whatever reason. Kristoph's voice is rising- " _Now!"-_ and Klavier is panting, panic apparent on his face.

Apollo holds his breath. What is Klavier playing at? Has he completely gone nuts, or is this a distraction? _Don't leave, don't comply, don't play along with Kristoph, please, Klavier..._

Klavier stands up again, straight and tall. Something has changed. The way Klavier is holding himself is all different. Now there's confidence and power in the way he's holding his chin, raised slightly. It's almost reminiscent of Kristoph, but not quite- there's something distinctly _Klavier_ about the proud smirk on his face, almost as though Klavier knows he's won.

 _He has a trump card._

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this."

Don't ask Apollo where he got it from, because Apollo doesn't know. He can't do much more than gape, jaw just about ready to hit the floor.

Apollo wasn't sure quite what he _was_ expecting, but it wasn't for Klavier's hand to be this steady as he aims a gun at Kristoph's head.

"This is the end of the line, Kris. Let Apollo go and I won't shoot."

* * *

 **"Klavier threatening Kristoph? In _my_ fanfic?" (it's more likely than you think. Check ur fanfic now!)**


	18. Chapter 18

**and now, back to your regularly scheduled sin**

* * *

 _They're saved._

Apollo can't believe it.

He can only wonder if he's begun to hallucinate, if the lack of oxygen is getting to him. This all feels so ridiculously out of place. It's so oddly unreal to see Klavier with a gun at all, much less see him aiming one at _Kristoph._ Klavier's always been so unquestionably _terrified_ of Kristoph that seeing him refuse Kristoph alone is impressive, but this? Klavier is downright threatening the person who's controlled him all his life, taking back the reigns and shoving Kristoph out of the way.

It's mesmerizing to watch.

Of course, that only makes Apollo's stomach sink faster when Kristoph bursts out laughing. " _You'll_ shoot _me?_ "

"Ja." Both of Klavier's hands are clenched around the gun, as though he's holding on for dear life. Even so, the expression on his face remains unfazed, almost like the two parts of his body are disconnected. "Don't make me."

The incredulity of the situation seems to have worn off, and so has Kristoph's amusement. Kristoph's sigh almost sounds laborious. "Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed."

"I'm not in the mood for riddles, Kris." Klavier is scowling again.

"You had promise, but I suppose this is the limit." Kristoph is continuing as though Klavier didn't speak at all. His tone is airy, almost like he couldn't care less. "Unfortunate. I've often wondered how far I could go... How far I could make you go..."

Apollo isn't sure if this is creepy or infuriating. All he knows is that his blood is boiling. Kristoph talks about manipulating Klavier so _carelessly_ , like it was effortless and consequenceless.

Like everything Apollo and Klavier went through together was nothing.

A hint of pride appears in Kristoph's voice as he goes on. "You were my greatest experiment, Klavier."

An _experiment._

Klavier can't hide his shiver, nor the way his eyes slide shut. So that's what it is. He's an experiment to Kristoph, not a brother, not an equal, not even a person at all. Klavier is Kristoph's greatest _experiment._

"That's…" Klavier's voice has lowered to a trembling whisper. Apollo winces. Please don't let Kristoph be winning again. Please, don't let him wrest back control.

When Klavier's eyes open again, they're burning. "… _irrelevant_ , and _not true._ "

Apollo's cheering internally. _Yes!_ Point one for Klavier!

Kristoph takes a breath, ready to speak again, but Klavier interrupts before he can say a thing. "Do us all a favor and cut your gottverdammt nonsense. I am _not_ going to be fooled by _anything_ else you say."

 _Yes!_ Apollo can't help but feel proud, and if he could use his arms, he'd pump a fist in the air. He's ridiculously proud that Klavier has finally stopped agonizing over everything that Kristoph thinks. He's proud that Klavier has stopped using Kristoph as a measuring stick for himself. Apollo's proud that Klavier has broken free of everything holding him back.

Kristoph shakes his head, and Apollo's sure he's wearing that smarmy little deliberating smile. "So impatient, not to mention overconfident."

Klavier opens his mouth, about to ask _why,_ and Kristoph responds immediately. "You must know that if you pull your trigger, I pull mine."

Oh right. If Klavier shoots, Kristoph will just kill Apollo. It's a simple choice: either Klavier leaves and nothing has changed, or Klavier shoots and Apollo and Kristoph both die. Brilliant.

Apollo feels his stomach drop several stories. He _knows_ what Klavier is going to choose, but he can't go through with it, he _can't._ Kristoph can't get away, not like this. Not because of Apollo.

Kristoph is probably smiling again. "It's time for you to decide, Klavier. Which Justice is dearer to you?"

 _Ugh, that pun. Really?_

Klavier's expression shifts. For the first time since he's pulled out the gun, panic flashes on his face. He's suddenly been taken off guard.

He doesn't have an answer.

"I-"

Just as quickly as it appeared, the panic is gone. Klavier's face clears, and he almost looks reassured, confident again. There's a bit of disbelief in his smile, like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders- like he's been relieved of a weight he'd thought he'd carry for his whole life. The poised assertiveness is back.

"No, that isn't the choice here." Klavier shakes his head, and his bangs wave with the motion. "I don't think you understand, Kristoph- not that I care."

Klavier's glaring again, resolute. "Just don't play god with me anymore."

At that Klavier nods quickly, bobbing his head and that's the moment when the world turns upside down; when everything bursts into a mess of motion and sound.

It's too much too sudden and Apollo shuts his eyes tight in defense, cringing. His eyes are watering in pain. All he can think is _sound,_ it's like a billion rock concerts exploding inside of his ears, a sheer eruption of sound waves crashing down on him. Apollo's whole body flinches and his ears are ringing, there's a pulsating muffled noise in his head. He didn't know _anything_ could be _this_ loud.

Klavier's collapsing forwards onto his knees, his hand stretching out. His fingers reach for Apollo, and he's screaming something- at least, it looks like it, Apollo can't hear anything through the white noise.

Klavier crashes to the ground, scrambling for Apollo, and it almost feels like everything is happening in slow motion, removed from all reality. Everything is numb, kind of like when a limb falls asleep but so, so much worse. Everything is buzzing in sheer _nothingness,_ everything except for the sharp pain stabbing Apollo's ears.

Klavier is getting closer to Apollo; he's growing until Klavier is all Apollo can see, just familiar tan skin and the torturous sight of him trying to hide his fear. Klavier's jaw is shaking and the terror hasn't quite left his eyes, but Klavier is smiling somehow, laughing in what looks like disbelief. His hands drift towards Apollo, cupping Apollo's face.

Apollo can't feel anything. He wants _so badly_ to feel the hands on his face, the thumbs brushing his cheeks, but he can't. It's _frustrating,_ he needs the touch, he needs Klavier again, but there's nothing.

Apollo concentrates on breathing, closing his eyes and trying to think back. He can remember how Klavier's hands feel. He knows how they should feel, and he can try and fill in the blanks for himself. Let's see... they'd be soft, they always are, and warm; Klavier's fingertips are worn and calloused from guitar strings, maybe they'd be a bit sweaty from hanging onto the gun. There we go. That makes it easier, just knowing that Klavier's hands are on Apollo, the same they always were.

The ringing noise is starting to fade a bit, and now Apollo can faintly hear a voice. It's high, but in a shrill way, pitched with emotion. Whomever it is sounds very disgruntled.

"I mean, _yeah,_ you can make me come over with a gun at 3 am, but do you really have to make me listen to all of your dramatic-ass bullshit?" The voice asks.

Klavier's laugh is breathy, and Apollo has to struggle to catch it. "It's hardly 3 am, Detective Skye. But danke. Your plan worked perfectly."

 _Ema._

They're talking about the noise earlier- Apollo heard _something,_ was... was that a gunshot? It felt unreasonably loud he means- _jeez,_ Apollo knew gunshots are loud, damagingly so, but he never expected them to be _this_ loud... wait, the gunshot...

No, there had to have been _two_ , consecutive bangs loud enough to rock the whole world where it hung. There were two, now Apollo's sure of it. He can remember the pause before the other boomed, ear-splitting sound. That's when Kristoph-

 _Kristoph._

Apollo's breath catches, and he winces again. Fuck. Kristoph! He was holding Apollo, choking him, that- this- there was a gunshot, Apollo's completely sure, and now Apollo's down, lying on the floor… that means…

Did Kristoph _shoot_ Apollo?

That's weird. Apollo doesn't _feel_ anything. He _feels_ just fine, especially now that he can hear again.

But… where's Kristoph now?

"Fuck yeah it did." The first voice is back- oh, that's _Ema._ "You're melodramatic enough that no one would check behind them. Back door, indeed."

Suddenly, Apollo's body remembers that it crashed to the floor, and there's a jolt of aching pain all over him. Apollo can't hold back a low groan, and now Klavier's back, concentrated completely on Apollo.

"Shh, shh, schatz, schatz, _schtaz,"_ Klavier whispers, and it looks like the hands on Apollo's cheeks are trembling. "Just keep on breathing, Apollo. You- you were wonderful, schatz, thank you. You were perfect. You _are_ perfect."

Ema butts in. "Breathe deeply, too. We want to avoid hypoxia."

There are footsteps, and suddenly Ema is leaning down over Apollo, hair falling in her face. There's something that looks like dust on her clothes, charcoal-esque. "You ok down there?"

Apollo attempts speech. It's difficult; his throat is dry and hoarse. "E-Ema?"

Ema salutes him with a little beam. "Sorry about all that. I thought for sure that _Gavin_ would be the damsel in distress."

"Fräulein!" Klavier sounds mock offended.

"W-" Apollo's voice immediately cracks and gives out, and it takes a second for Apollo to muster it again. "What happened?"

"Shh." Klavier's voice is low, soothing and relaxed. "Ema came in from the back door, Apollo. I was just a distraction; she's the one who shot Kristoph. He's out cold now and you're fine, ja?"

" _Well_ ," Ema interrupts, and Klavier shoots her a look. Ema glares at him, looking exasperated. " _What_? He should know he's been shot in the foot!"

W- _shot in the foot?!_

Okay, okay, that's better than what Apollo was expecting, but that's still- wait, huh? Apollo's foot feels fine, it- well, it doesn't really feel anything, it's numb like the rest of him, but this is definitely not what Apollo was expecting _getting shot_ to feel like. This is really weird, actually, almost a bit like Apollo is floating. Everything is kind of shaky, anyways, like Apollo's dizzy. Maybe his foot is in excruciating pain and Apollo just didn't notice.

Klavier turns to Ema. "Speaking of Kristoph, is he-?"

 _Dead?_

Apollo hears Klavier's breath catch, and he knows that Klavier doesn't want to finish the question. He's having second thoughts, that maybe he doesn't want to know. Apollo isn't sure if he wants to know either. With Kristoph there's always the inevitable battle between feeling sorry and feeling relieved, never knowing which one is right or wrong, if it's still alright to root for the person he once was- the person Apollo _thought_ he was.

"Nah." Ema says, as disinterestedly as ever. "Poor bastard's not going to hell just yet. I think he's got a transmediastinal gunshot wound, though. Doesn't look good."

Klavier makes a face. "Well? Was are you waiting for? Call the police!"

"I _am_ the police!" Ema sounds offended.

"The real police!"

"I _am_ the real police!"

"The helpful police!"

"Ok, jeez, fine!"

Ema turns around with her cell in hand; punching numbers with the kind of vitriol only she can bring to dialing a phone number. She starts talking immediately, gesturing wildly and barking orders through the phone. Classic Ema.

Apollo smiles. He's realizing now that he's missed her, much as he never thought he would.

There's something faintly warm around Apollo's wrist, and Apollo inhales sharply, savoring the feeling returning to his arm. It's a hand, belonging to Klavier, of course. He's smiling, tracing circles over Apollo's hand with his thumb.

"Klavier?" Apollo hates how weak and needy his voice sounds. He hates how quickly Klavier looks panicked at the question, how the agony plays on his face, much as Klavier tries to hide it.

"Ja?"

Apollo doesn't even remember what he wanted. Probably to see that face again, to give a crooked smile that makes Klavier's eyes soften.

If it's been too long since Apollo's seen Ema, it's been _far too long_ since he's seen Klavier. Missing Klavier is missing more than a person; it's missing a limb, a vital part of everything Apollo is. Kristoph sure is a poor replacement. Apollo's-

Apollo's eyes widen. _Oh, fuck._

"I kissed your brother," Apollo mumbles, eyes wide in shock. Klavier's laugh is breathless, disbelieving.

"No need to trouble yourself with that," Klavier says quietly, running a hand in Apollo's hair. Apollo leans into it, breathing steadying.

This still doesn't feel real. "He-he said that you were dead-"

Klavier's eyes widen and he leans forwards. "Nein, Apollo, nein! I'm fine, I promise. I'm right here, see?"

Apollo smiles before the sensation of floating is back with a vengeance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel like the floor is there at all. Klavier's face is stretching like it's in a curved mirror, and now it's getting harder to keep Apollo's eyes open. His eyelids feel heavy, and they're drooping, suddenly just being _awake_ feels frustratingly heavy and difficult.

Wait, n-no, Apollo has to stay awake! He can't go out now, not after he made it through all that!

It's hard to fight it. Everything feels sluggish and hard to process. It's like Apollo's brain has been replaced with a cotton ball, and it's hard to force through and _think._ The world is still swimming around Apollo, and it takes too much concentration to just make everything stay still.

Klavier looks worried, he's saying something muffled and weird- is that Apollo's name? It might be. Apollo can't read Klavier's lips anymore, they're moving too quickly.

Klavier is- wait, no, Klavier isn't here. Klavier is Kristoph. Klavier is dead? That's what Kristoph says. Kristoph is Klavier. Klavier- which one, there's real Klavier and fake Klavier- there was a gunshot, Apollo's been shot in the foot- Klavier has a gun- no wait, Kristoph has a gun?

"Wait, who are you?" Apollo isn't even sure if that's a person anymore, everything is really blurry all of a sudden. It's hard to speak, and suddenly, everything feels cold. It's like there's ice coating every part of Apollo's body, and he's shivering. "Did- where's Klavier?"

There are eyes above Apollo, blue and worried- they're turning to the side, someone's yelling. "F-fräulein? He doesn't know who I am."

"What's his pulse like?" That's a girl's voice, Apollo thinks. Trucy? Why is she here? She's at the Wright Anything Agency, right? She says to smile, she says that it makes you feel better-

There's something warm at Apollo's wrist, and he makes a strangled noise- he _needs_ the warmth, everything feels cold, the whole room is frozen.

"Faint. Rapid. He's sweating, but his skin is cold. Fingernails are bluish." The voice barks out- wait, no, that's a man's voice. This is someone different from before. Wait, what happened here? Where is Apollo?

" _Shit._ " Now the voice is a girl's again, and it sounds- well, it sounds something, something that's just out of Apollo's grasp. It's hard to place. "He's going into shock."

"I-isn't that deadly?!" The voice is pitchy and alarmed.

"Only technically. He'll make it." _He'll make it._ Is _he_ Apollo? Apollo was shot in the- foot, right? It doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts. Apollo can't feel _anything._ It's kind of like he's hanging from something, suspended above the ground. Everything is numb, and Apollo feels kind of dazed.

"Breathe, schatz, breathe." Who's… Apollo is _he_ , right? So who's _schtaz_? It feels like Apollo should know, but his eyes are closing. Why did he need to keep them opened, again?

Everything has gone completely dark, and there's nothing to feel but cold. It's all over Apollo, biting and raw, but it's all going away. Everything is fading. There's only one thing left that Apollo can hear, and it's hard to interpret through the cracks and dry sobs.

Apollo thinks someone's just told him _I love you._

* * *

 **rip**


	19. Chapter 19

**welcome back**

* * *

The first thing Apollo feels is numbness.

A soon as he's able to clear his throat enough to make sound he groans, low and labored. Great. Just great. This again. Apollo just _loves_ not being able to feel anything. What a joy.

Although, even if Apollo is complaining, he has to admit that the general unfeeling-ness of it isn't as bad as before. The sensation feels less like floating and more like a disconnect, like the body Apollo's in isn't really his. He still feels weightless, but now it's more like he never had a weight at all.

Comforting.

Everything is weirdly fuzzy and desensitized. Apollo can't feel much more than the heat of sunlight on his face and the touch of unfamiliar crisp sheets under his fingertips.

Wait.

That only begs the question.

Where the hell is Apollo?

Apollo tries listening, and he can hear voices in the distance, muffled and intermingling. That means that people are all around, which means that Apollo is… well he can feel sheets, which means that he's in a bed, which must mean he's at home, but then why are there people everywhere?

Apollo tries to think back. Let's see… he was at work yesterday, it was raining, he took the subway home… wait, what happened then? There's a hole in his memory, something empty then, but… Apollo felt numb last night, he's sure of it, that's why it feels so familiar now.

That's it. Apollo has to know what's going on.

It takes some strain, but Apollo finally manages to open his eyes. It really isn't easy. His eyelids are drooping and heavy, like they're being weighed down, and when he does open them- _ah, that's bright._

There's a blinding white light on Apollo's face, like a sheet of blank paper was set over a strobe light, and he's cringing. Apollo makes a noise in protest, trying to lift his hand to block the light, but he can't. It takes too much strength to just _try_ and move his arm, and when he does he can feel something there, like there's something blocking him from moving comfortably.

"Apollo!" There's a flash of blue and a whoosh and someone is next to him in what feels like less than an instant.

Apollo blinks, trying to take it all in. It takes a second to place the face looming over him.

That's... Trucy? What is she doing here in... wherever this is?

Apollo tries to say something, but his mouth is dry. It feels like all of the moisture has been sucked out of it, like there's a black hole in his mouth.

When Apollo finally does manage to create some slurred sounds, his mouth feels as groggy and slow as everything else. "'Ey, Truce."

"Daddy! He's awake!" Trucy calls, and Apollo scans the room- because seriously, where the hell is he?

Oh. This is a hospital. Everything around Apollo is uniformly white and clean, and he's lying in a hospital bed. The thing on his arm is an IV, hooked up to a machine directly to his left that Apollo can hear beeping softly if he listens closely. If Apollo lies really far back, the machine blocks the bright light for him, which is coming from a window to Apollo's left.

"Don't yell, Trucy, and give him some space." There's a grating sound as another chair drags towards Apollo, and Apollo tilts his head to see- oh hey, it's Mr. Wright.

"Hi." Apollo's voice is soft and hoarse, and it feels a little uncomfortable to be talking with how his tongue is rubbing against the roof of his mouth. He _has_ to talk to Mr. Wright, though. It's a grave understatement to say that there are some pressing issues with waking up in a hospital bed. "So... why am I in the hospital?"

"You got shot!" Trucy yelps instantly, hands balled into fists. Looks like she's gonna ignore the no yelling rule. "It was so cool! Dad and Daddy and me were watching Steel Samurai 8 because Dad bet Daddy that he'd cry twice, and he'd already cried once, but then the phone started ringing and they told me to pick it up, and it was Mr. Gumshoe! And then I put it on speaker and he told me and my dads to meet him at the hospital 'cause you were in trouble and Klavier told Daddy to make your medical decisions for you 'cause you were unconscious! We drove there super quick and there was an ambulance and flashing lights everywhere and everyone was yelling and it was way past my bedtime but no one cared!"

Apollo blinks, trying to take in the barrage of words. Jeez, she didn't stop once to take a breath through all that. Impressive.

"Wait..." Apollo tries to press his finger to his forehead, but his arm isn't cooperating. _Damn_ it, this is really awkward. "...I got _shot_?"

That's hard to process. Getting shot feels like that thing that happens in the movies or in the news, not like something that can happen to twenty-something brunette lawyer Apollo Justice. Come on, he's just an ordinary guy! Just how the hell would Apollo even get shot? He's a _lawyer_! He doesn't do anything exciting or dangerous, y'know.

"You were shot in the foot," Mr. Wright clarifies. Judging by the faint stubble on his chin and the wrinkles under his eyes, he had just as exciting a night as Trucy- except he just looks really tired, not energized by it like Trucy is.

"The doctor says that you were really lucky!" Trucy adds. "She said that you, uh,"

Trucy stops dead in her tracks, glancing at Mr. Wright for help.

"The bullet missed bones and critical cartilage." Mr. Wright says, and it there's a faint air of recitation to it. Yeah, Mr. Wright's no ballistic forensics expert- not unless there's _even more_ he hasn't told Apollo. Let's just agree that the doctor probably told him that.

"That's good." Trucy attempts to translate. Mr. Wright just chuckles, leaning over and pointing to Apollo's foot.

"It exited the bottom of your foot here," Mr. Wright explains. "Which is good, because it missed everything important. The bad news is, that means that your foot could bleed freely, and between blood loss and lack of oxygen, you went into shock pretty quickly."

Oh, shock. That explains why Apollo remembers feeling numb earlier. "How... bad is it?"

"Well, you're definitely going to be here in the hospital for awhile," Mr. Wright sighs. "Your ears are also a bit damaged, and your neck is bruised and swollen."

Okay. Apollo's ears were probably hurt by the gunshots (those things are _loud)_ , but his neck? How would that-

There's a flash in Apollo's mind's eye, and then there's the sudden image of a fuchsia clad arm tightening around Apollo's neck. He remembers lungs burning for air and a crushed throat, clear as day. Apollo's hand twitches, as though it's remembering his strained arms, trying in vain to yank the arm of his captor away as his heart only pounds more and more.

Oh... oh right, Kristoph was holding Apollo back, choking him. Then there was Klavier standing just opposite, reaching out for Apollo with panic written clearly on his face, and Ema... Ema was coming from behind, firing at Kristoph.

This is good. Apollo can recall more and more of last night when he thinks about it.

Wait... three guns, two gunshots, ambulances, and police? That sounds for a recipe for disaster, now that Apollo thinks about it. They can't have all made it out with only Apollo's _foot_ injured.

Oh. None of the people who were there last night are in this room now, which means-

Oh _fuck._

"Everyone's... alive, right?" Apollo asks unsteadily. He really, really hopes that they're ok. He can't stand the thought of someone dying for him. Not like that.

"Yes, everyone who was there is currently alive." Mr. Wright answers, and Apollo's only relieved for a second before he frowns.

Wait a second. The wording... it could just be Wright crazy, but _currently_ alive? That's not too optimistic. Is someone...?

"What do you-" Apollo begins, but he's interrupted by a tinny rendition of the Steel Samurai theme blaring from Mr. Wright's pocket. Mr. Wright holds up a finger to stop Apollo and shifts, digging in his pocket. It takes a few seconds for him to produce his phone and hold it up to his ear, and he answers immediately. "Hey."

Apollo makes a face. Classic Mr. Wright. Saved by the bell. Apollo _knows_ Mr. Wright is keeping something from him, even if he can't imagine why. It's probably because of that classic bullshit you tell someone in the hospital, that you don't want to trouble them and get their heart rate up or whatever. Apollo's not delicate! He _needs_ to know what happened after he blacked out, he has to know what happened to-

Apollo starts.

Wait.

Where's Klavier?

He should be here, right? Apollo'd _think_ the very first person he'd see after waking up with a potentially deadly injury would be his boyfriend. It's in the visitation rights and all that, plus Klavier was right _there_ through all of last night- hell, he's the last thing Apollo can remember hearing before going out cold.

Yeah, this is _definitely_ fishy. Klavier's almost become a staple in Apollo's life, so much so that waking up without him in the immediate vicinity would be troubling even if they _weren't_ in a gunfight last night.

Apollo clenches his jaw. Just where the hell is Klavier now?!

"Yeah?" Mr. Wright asks the phone with a smirk. "I dunno, I might just leave you out there-"

There's a muffled noise from the phone, one that's obviously someone getting angry. Mr. Wright only laughs. "I was joking, I was joking! Yeah, I'll be out there in a second. Hang on."

He puts a hand over the phone. "Sorry Apollo, Trucy, I'll be right back. I need to let Miles back into the wing. Some weird security protocol. ICU stuff and all."

"Bye!" Trucy waves to him, leaning forwards in her chair. Apollo also attempts a wave, but the most he can accomplish is wiggling his fingers. This is only getting more frustrating as time goes on.

The door closes behind Mr. Wright with a click, and for all of Trucy's loud excitability earlier, it's like there's a blanket thrown over the room. It's dead silent the instant the door is completely closed, like a switch controlling the conversation has been flipped onto _off_.

Well, this is kind of awkward.

Apollo glances around, trying to fill the stagnant time. Uh... maybe he should check out his immediate surroundings or something. Get his bearings on the situation.

Let's see here... there's a TV across from Apollo on a stand, kind of outdated, but it looks functional enough. Then there's a bedside table next to him, with a vase full of flowers that Apollo can't name (or tell apart, for that matter), but... they look pretty? There's also a set of table and chairs to his right, next to the door.

Apollo nods a little. Nice. Not like he can get out of the bed or anything, but nice.

Apollo turns his head to look back to the other side of the room, glancing past Trucy, and- _wait_ _is she even blinking?!_

Apollo stops dead in his tracks, caught off guard. Trucy is staring straight at Apollo, eyes wide like she's scanning him or something. Her eyes search his face with the intensity of someone on a mission. It's almost like she's sketching him in her head, mentally running over every detail and line of Apollo there is and committing it to memory.

Apollo suppresses a shiver. It's kind of off-putting, actually.

"Er... Trucy?" Apollo asks, and she jumps at the sound, as though her wandering mind has just been shot down to Earth.

"What? Oh." Trucy's voice is a little loud, uncomfortably so, and she immediately looks down into her lap. She seems embarrassed, like Apollo's caught her doing something she wasn't supposed to. "Sorry."

Well, it's not _illegal_ to stare at Apollo.

"No, it's fine, just-" Fuck, now Apollo's stumbling. Change the subject. "Er... what were you thinking about?"

"Huh? O-oh." Trucy blushes, looking even more flustered now. "It's nothing."

"I mean, you don't _have_ to tell me," Apollo begins, and Trucy shakes her head. "No, no, it's fine, I-"

"I guess..." She slows down, and there's a little sigh in her voice. "I was thinking... that it's nice to see you awake again. I..."

Trucy takes a deep breath and shifts, like the new air is coursing through her whole body. "I wasn't really sure if I ever would."

 _Oh._

Well, Apollo wasn't expecting _that_ from a teenager, especially one as carefree as Trucy Wright.

Was.. was she really that worried?

Too late now. Her eyes are closed now, and it's like her mouth is moving of its own accord. The floodgates have opened.

"It was really scary, last night." She says quickly, words rushing out. "I saw them bringing you into the hospital. You weren't moving, you were just _lying_ there, and your lips were blue, and there were bruises all over your neck. There was blood _everywhere,_ all over you, and you looked-"

Trucy stops there, voice cracking. Apollo can see her trembling, she's shaking so badly. She can't make herself continue.

Apollo can feel the hairs on the back of his neck raising. It's downright unnerving to hear about himself like this, comatose and beaten. The scariest part is that he can't remember any of it at all- so he was just as _gone_ as Trucy is describing. For all it's worth, Apollo might as well have been dead. This is... fuck, this is the state that Apollo hears about most _bodies_ being found in.

From Trucy's description, last night Apollo was a murder victim straight out of their cases.

Trucy's voice drops to a near whisper. It's like the usual spark has been drawn out of it and crushed, like her very voice has become exhausted and worn. "Daddy doesn't know, but I heard him and the doctors talking about you."

Her voice is almost unintelligible now, soft mumbles that tell Apollo that she doesn't want to think about what she's saying. "They said... they said that you could _die."_

It's silent then, except for a stray beep of the heart monitor.

Well, fuck.

Apollo swallows. That's... he wants to help, he wants so badly to put Trucy's fears to rest, but it's all too damn _real._ He can't very well tell her that he's immortal, or that this will never happen again, because he can't lie to her. He can't tell Trucy Wright that this is the last time they'll meet like this, he can't make a promise that he can't keep.

Apollo has no idea what to do.

Bluffing time.

Apollo searches his mind. Come on, he has to have something...

Oh right! Last night! He can remember people discussing something like this just before he fell unconscious. He can quote that.

Apollo shakes his head. "That's true only in technicality. I'm right here, Truce. I'm fine."

"I know." Trucy says to the floor, still looking down. "I'm sorry."

Apollo opens his mouth to say _no, it's okay, I'd be worried just the same if it were you,_ but Trucy shakes her head. Her hands tighten around her arms, like she's hugging herself. "I overreact when it comes to this kind of thing, I know. I just... I'm scared, Polly. I don't want any of you to end up like my real mom, or my real dad, because I care a lot about you, and my new dads, and Klavier, and-"

There are tears brimming in her eyes.

Apollo's overcome with the sudden urge to take Trucy's hand. He gives a glare to his unmoving hand, trying to use sheer willpower (or maybe the force) to move it. Come on! He needs to reach for her hand, he needs to give her the physical confirmation that he's _here,_ he's alive and fine.

Through some miracle, his hand shifts, even if it is nearly unnoticeable, and Trucy somehow gets the message. She takes it, holding tight like she never wants to let go. Apollo gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Trucy." Apollo says slowly, trying to keep his voice steady, but gentle. "Don't be scared, ok? I don't plan on leaving anytime soon. Trust me, I'll be around for awhile, and so will your dads and Klavier. Someone's gotta strike fear into the hearts of criminals, right?"

Bad move, bad move. Trucy looks like she might cry again. She's staring holes into the floor, eyes wide and vulnerable. "Yeah, only that's dangerous, isn't it?"

Dead silence again. Apollo's heart monitor is getting a little louder as he thinks, trying for a solution. Come on, he can do this!

"Trucy?" Apollo asks quietly. He waits until she looks up, until her eyes meet his.

Yeah, he's going to have to be honest now.

Here goes nothing.

"You're not a kid," Apollo says carefully, "and I'm not going to lie to you. Yeah. It's dangerous. Yeah, I got hurt, and yeah, it could happen again. But you know what?"

He waits for her to respond, waits until she shakes her head, anticipating the end of the phrase.

Apollo lets a modest smile onto his face. It's small, but sincere. "Someone very wise once told me that no matter what, you've just gotta smile. It makes you feel better."

Trucy sniggers, taking a breath to say something, but Apollo doesn't let her. He shakes his head, continuing. "You know what? It's true. You've got to do it like you _mean_ it."

Trucy still looks like she doesn't believe him, but she follows his instructions anyways. It'll be over quicker that way, right?

She closes her eyes, and her mouth twitches. Think happy thoughts, Trucy. Steel Samurai last night. Making Apollo feel better two days ago. Going to Klavier's concert. Performing in a magic show for everyone in the family, watching their faces light up with every passing trick.

"See?" Apollo asks quietly, and Trucy knows that she's smiling again.

"Thank you," She says in a hushed voice, and Apollo squeezes her hand again. Anything for Trucy. Anything to help her realize that it's alright to be sad, or worried, but in the end, you can't do it forever.

Sometimes, you have to let it go and smile.

"We're back!"

The door swings open to Mr. Wright's cheer, and Apollo and Trucy both look over to see Mr. Edgeworth and a large, brown shopping bag walk into the room.

Apollo squints. Oh wait, it's Mr. Wright under that thing.

Mr. Wright makes his way over to the table, dumping the shopping bag down on top of it. He gives Apollo a little wave before turning back around and immediately starting to sift through it, as though there's something that he desperately needs to find.

Apollo can't get over Mr. Edgeworth, though. He just looks plain _weird_ in casual clothes. Miles Edgeworth really wasn't meant to wear a polo and jeans, they look like they've been badly photoshopped onto him somehow.

Despite how weird he looks, he seems to be in a friendly enough mood. He also gives Apollo a little wave.

"Good morning, Apollo." Mr. Edgeworth says with a small smile. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Apollo says, and he's about to elaborate before he's interrupted by Mr. Wright making a triumphant noise.

Mr. Wright stands up straight again, holding up a cup of coffee like it's the holy grail. "Ah, coffee. Thank you, Miles."

Mr. Edgeworth smiles in his direction. "You're welcome. I also brought a change of clothes for each of you, since you've been in those since yesterday."

That hits Apollo hard.

Oh.

They were all here since last night.

That's... _weird._

It feels kind of weird that _anyone_ would stay overnight in the hospital with Apollo- _for_ Apollo. This level of dedication is the kind of thing that Apollo's heard about happening to other people, but... it's just never happened to him. There wasn't really anyone who cared enough to stay by his side for that long- not that Apollo is bitter! It's a fact of life, he's an orphan with no family. There's no one there for him, it's just the way it is, the way it always was.

And yet...

Apollo looks over at the Wrights. You know, for all of his griping about how _weird_ they are... Mr. Wright came in the middle of the night to make decisions that probably saved Apollo's life, Trucy was worried out of her mind and stayed all night, and Mr. Edgeworth... Apollo doesn't even _know_ Mr. Edgeworth that well, and he was there too, there through all of it!

Apollo stares down at the sheets. This is just all so _alien_ to him. It's probably out of place to be getting all sentimental now, but... he's grateful for the Wrights. All of them.

He's grateful that they're here for him.

"Yes!" Trucy gasps. She'd crossed over to the bag while Apollo was thinking, and now she's just finished digging through it. She holds up a small rectangle. "Steel Samurai 8! We can finally finish it!"

"Yes." Mr. Edgeworth's smile is more of a smirk now. "I'm still holding your father to his bet. One more tear and he's done for!"

"H-hold it!" Mr. Wright yells, pointing a finger. "Those weren't tears the first time! They were, uh..."

He glances around the room, like he'll see something that will save him. "Uh... eye... sweat?"

Mr. Edgeworth rolls his eyes. "Bluffing won't save you now, Wright. One more _eye sweat_ and you're washing the dishes for a week!"

Mr. Wright sticks out his tongue, making a face at Mr. Edgeworth, who immediately makes a face back. Apollo snickers. Believe it or not, Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth are a surprisingly good couple. They both know each other like the back of their own hand, like two halves of a whole working together. No wonder they were- _are-_ such a formidable team in court.

Apollo blinks. That-

Right. That reminds him...

"Mr. Wright?" Apollo asks. Mr. Wright must have heard the apprehensive tone in his voice, the way Apollo's question is small and unsteady, because he immediately looks concerned.

"Yes, Apollo?" He sets down the coffee, the space between his eyes creasing. "What is it?"

"Uh, I was just wondering," Shit. Is this even a good time? Apollo mingles his bedsheets, tugging the blanket.

Too late now. He's already begun asking anyways. He has to know. "Where's Klavier?"

Mr. Wright's eyes widen, and he exchanges a look with Mr. Edgeworth. He's sputtering a little. "Ah, Apollo, I-"

He starts answering while he's facing away, like he's messaging Mr. Edgeworth for help. Something twists in Apollo's gut. He's hit on something, alright.

Time to press. "Mr. Wright?"

Mr. Wright looks back to Apollo, although he's not making eye contact. His eyes are flicking around the room nervously. Mr. Edgeworth and Trucy are dead silent all of a sudden- _uncharacteristically_ so.

Mr. Wright rubs the back of his neck. "Uh, maybe we should talk about this later-"

"Mr. Wright." Apollo sits up straight. Something is _wrong,_ and he has to know what. "Where. Is. Klavier?"

Mr. Wright won't meet Apollo's eyes. He looks like he's cornered, smiling nervously. "Not… here?"

"Mr. Wright!" Apollo clenches his fists, and his voice rises.

"I-" Mr. Wright's shoulders sink, and he looks down, sighing. "We're sorry, Apollo, okay?"

Apollo's stomach sinks. That's not exactly a beginning that inspires confidence. Just what the hell is going on here?

"We told him it wasn't necessary, but you know how he is, he insisted!" Mr. Wright suddenly seems frustrated at something, gesturing wildly.

Apollo can't believe what he's hearing. W-what did Klavier insist on?! Fuck, if Apollo, basically the only person he really listens to was out- oh _fuck,_ the only other person he listens to is _Kristoph,_ this is getting bad fast-

Mr. Wright takes a deep breath, staring down at the floor. "He's turned himself in as Kristoph's accomplice. Klavier's been arrested, Apollo."

* * *

 **did u think this was over**


	20. Chapter 20

**my phone recognizes daryan as a word time to leave this world**

* * *

Apollo's really getting bored in this hospital.

There isn't much to do here, especially considering that he can't leave his bed. There are only so many creative ways to lie there and do nothing, and Apollo's exhausted any and all different ways to sit up- _believe_ him, he hasn't moved from this bed in what feels like forever.

He'd work, of course, but Mr. Wright's taken over Apollo's cases ever since Apollo got shot, insisting that the only way Apollo will ever get better is if he rests. Apollo disagrees- he's _fine_ now, he doesn't need to be babied like this- but everyone, including his doctor (a kind-looking thirty-something woman with jet black hair) is telling him to stay in bed, to stay in the hospital and rest.

Apollo finds himself crossing his arms and huffing a lot nowadays. Seriously, he's absolutely fine! His _brain_ wasn't injured at all, and his neck and ears are fine by now. The only thing he's in danger of now is getting severe cabin fever cooped up in here, especially since his foot is basically fine now. He could probably stand if he wanted to!

In short, the most entertainment Apollo gets nowadays is the Wrights' daily visit- which is great, don't get him wrong, but it's getting old. They've watched half the Steel Samurai movie franchise by now (which is _no_ simple feat, considering how damn many of them there are) and Trucy's taught Apollo approximately 20 card games, all of which she can easily beat him in.

Apollo's gotten so desperate that he's been playing the local news in the background for days now, trying to garner what limited entertainment he can find from it. In a _shocking_ twist, the news has gotten depressing, so Apollo's basically resigned himself to staring blankly out of the window.

"Los Angeles, California. Has the domino effect finally come to a close?" The latest news report asks.

Apollo sighs. Well, at least the parking lot hasn't changed.

"Former Gavinners frontman and renowned prosecutor Klavier Gavin has been arrested following a tense standoff against his brother, who'd escaped from prison a few days earlier. The former defense attorney is now hospitalized along with Mr. Gavin's partner, defense attorney Apollo Justice."

 _Wait, what?!_

Apollo turns just in time to catch images flashing across the screen- first Kristoph in a mugshot, then a grainy shot of Apollo that only could have been taken when he was being brought into the hospital. He's unconscious and bloodstained, left limp on a stretcher with the bright light of police colors flashing all around.

The pictures disappear and the camera zooms out. Now Apollo can see two people seated comfortably at a long table, surrounded on all sides by monitors. Oh great, a panel. Just what this story needs.

"We've invited criminal expert Bill Wisteria for his thoughts on this." The woman continues to narrate through her exaggerated smile, turning to face the person seated across from her.

"So Bill, what's your take on this?" She asks, and it cuts to the guy- Bill, Apollo guesses- who has a suit on, complete with a matching self-assured smile.

"Well, I think it's very simple." He begins, and Apollo snickers. Yeah. Simple. Enlighten Apollo then, just _what did_ happen that night?

"It is the domino effect, just like you said," Bill begins, folding his hands together. "With the stress and influences around him, cracking really was inevitable for Gavin. I'm just glad that the pretenses are over, and we finally know ally from enemy. At this stage, the Dark Age of the Law is nothing more than a dying threat. I only hope that this arrest will be the last, and that this age of corruption has come to an end with this final betrayal."

Apollo can't listen to this anymore.

He punches the power button on the remote lying beside his hand, watching with satisfaction as the screen snaps to black with a click.

Good riddance.

Apollo can't help but grimace. Come on, do people really think that _Klavier_ of all people is part of the Dark Age of the Law? If anything, he's its fiercest critic - he's brought down every person related to the Dark Age, friend or foe, even taking on several cases at a time to ensure that justice is served. He pushed his personal feelings aside and _worked,_ day after day, overtime to right the wrongs of the past.

Apollo _knows_ that, he was _there_ every step of the way. Don't _talk_ to him about Klavier cracking- because he was _there_ when Klavier finally did, he was _there_ holding Klavier after he tried to-

 _No,_ no no.

The mental block goes up, and Apollo's train of thought swerves in another direction.

He's shaking now. If _anything_ is proof, _that_ was. Besides, Klavier _can't_ be in league with Kristoph, he's a _pawn,_ not a cohort. It's fucking manipulation, that's what all of this is. What did Kristoph call Klavier that night? Yeah, an _experiment,_ just a test to see how far Kristoph could go. To see how far his reach extended, to see how strong the puppet strings were. Kristoph just wanted to know what he could make another person _do,_ how much he could override human nature before Klavier collapsed.

It all feels so reminiscent of the Misham Trial, back when master puppeteer Kristoph had first tried his hand stacking cards, building a plan out of the mismatched pieces he had. A bloody ace, a magician's daughter, a protégé, a disbarred lawyer, a sheltered girl and an experiment- they're _tools_ to him, an intricate design.

Apollo scowls. He's only grateful that he got to knock it all down, that the house of cards has fallen. Kristoph was as good as finished after the Misham Trial, and his plans are in ruins now.

As for the house of cards... Apollo and Klavier have collapsed it for a second time now, but it only feels like their own cards are getting more and more bent every time they fall. It's getting harder to stand back up again, harder to convince Klavier that he's not Kristoph's _experiment_ \- or _Kristoph's_ at all.

Apollo rubs his eyes, wincing. Fuck, it's going to be _impossible_ this time. It's always harder the second time, harder to convince Klavier that it wasn't his fault- because _yeah,_ Klavier was _wrong,_ but that doesn't make any of this his _responsibility,_ much as Kristoph likes to leave the blame for Klavier to shoulder.

Apollo closes his eyes, palms still pressed against his face. Ok. It'll be hard, sure, but he can do this. He's saved Klavier before, he can do it again. He can do this.

The voice in the back of his head is back. _Yeah, this should be easy, Apollo,_ it says. _You just have to override everything in Klavier's programming and convince Kristoph's greatest experiment that he's a person first, tool second. Simple._

" _Argh_!" Apollo growls, leaning his head back. _Fuck!_ Why is this so hard?! Why doesn't Kristoph just _give up?!_

"Bad time?" Someone asks, and Apollo starts.

Wait.

Huh?

W-who the fuck was _that_?

Apollo takes a quick look around the room. The window's closed, the TV's off, the door's- oh, the door's cracked open. There's a shadow slipping through, someone must be standing just outside of the door.

It's dead silent for a second, and Apollo's backtracking to figure out why- oh. Apollo needs to say something here.

Apollo clears his throat, hoping it all doesn't sound too conspicuous. "No, no, come in."

Well, this is kind of embarrassing- being caught growling at the ceiling, that is. Who's here, anyways? Is it the Wrights again? Fuck, they'll never let Apollo hear the end of this-

"Good, 'cause this is my only break." The voice responds nonchalantly, and the door swings all the way open to bump against the wall. One Ema Skye strides in, arms crossed with a very familiar expression of distaste on her face.

Despite how characteristically pissed Ema looks, Apollo finds himself breathing a sigh of relief. Yeah, Mr. Wright had _said_ that she was okay, but it's a whole other thing to see her in person again, just the same as she's always been. It's _Ema,_ acting Ema and looking Ema like nothing has changed, like _that night_ never happened at all.

Boy, does Apollo wish that was the case.

"Hey, Ema." Apollo waves at her, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He just knows that she'd never let him hear the end of it if he acted _all foppish and sentimental_.

"Hey yourself." Ema says with a smile (weird), stopping at the foot of Apollo's bed. She takes a brief look around the room, stopping to nod her head at the half-finished bag on Apollo's nightstand. "I see you got my snackoos."

She almost sounds proud.

"Oh yeah, thanks! They're great!" Apollo gushes. They're even better when they're not being chucked at your head, but Apollo doesn't say that.

Ema finishes scanning the room, finally deciding to drag up Mr. Wright's usual chair (wow, it's sad that Apollo can tell them apart) and take a seat. "Feeling better?" She asks, leaning forwards.

"Yup," Apollo nods. "They're finally letting me off the drugs. I mean, it's just my foot, and that's healing pretty quick."

"Yeah, you got lucky." Ema agrees. She looks grateful for a moment before it seems like she's remembered something, and her face goes blank.

Apollo's instantly suspicious.

Ema tilts her head, looking off to the side. She's pursing her lips, like there's something she isn't sure that she wants to say.

Apollo's about to ask when she blurts it out. "They say Gavin's completely paralyzed."

Apollo's jaw drops. What?! _No no no,_ that- that doesn't even make sense?!

Ema seems to realize what she's just said, holding up her hands to stop Apollo. "Not the one you're thinking of! The older one!"

" _Oh,_ " Well that's a relief... _somewhat_.

Apollo feels his head droop as he looks down, staring at the bedsheets. "Still, that's… _wow."_

He feels a bit numb again, suddenly. It's a lot to take in. _Completely_ paralyzed?

It's like the _Kristoph_ has been sucked out of Kristoph, now that he's- fuck, he doesn't have his stance anymore, that confident way he folds his arms over his chest, or the way he holds his chin up, smile angled downwards. It's weird to think about Kristoph without the intimidation tactics, without the subtle ways he'd appear larger than life.

It's just _weird_ to think about.

The thought makes Klavier flash through Apollo's mind again, and Apollo grits his teeth. "You know what? It's about time he's paid something of his own for one of his plans."

Ema smirks, and yep, she definitely looks proud. "Damn right."

Something else appears to have crossed her mind now, though, because she looks a bit more uncertain all of a sudden. "You heard about Klavier, right?"

Apollo nods. "Is he still…?"

"Yeah. He's in the detention center, stubborn as ever. The fop won't listen when I tell him that no one's pressing charges. I think he's going to press charges against _himself,_ at this rate," Ema snarks, getting up to lean over Apollo's bed. It takes a second to process that she's reaching for one of Apollo's snackoos.

Apollo holds out the bag for her. He tries to keep his face blank, keep his stomach from twisting. "So, what do you think about all this?"

Ema shrugs. "I mean, it looks pretty clear cut to me. Kristoph was threatening Klavier and controlling him, same old same old."

She pops a snackoo in her mouth, making a face as though she's tasted something sour. "The fop shouldn't have fallen for this shit twice, though."

Apollo nods. That's reasonable, considering the information they had. Ema had probably arrived at the scene early enough to hear some of their conversation and figure out what was going on, so she probably has as much of a clue as Apollo does.

Wait. That raises a question.

"Why _were_ you there, anyways?" Apollo asks, taking his own snackoo from the bag.

Ema chews on hers. "It was kind of weird, actually. I mean, it was just another Tuesday until Gavin rushes into my office in a hysterical frenzy, looking like he's seen a ghost. Suddenly he's all 'Apollo' this and 'he's in trouble' that."

Ema pauses to swallow, reaching for another. "I thought it was just general fop stuff until he mentioned his brother. 'Kristoph's going to kill Apollo, I know it,' he says, and I'm pretty sure that he's going to do something crazy whether I'm there or not, so I guess it's better if I'm there to make sure that _you_ don't die at least. So I toss him my gun, take his keys, tell him to hold Kristoph off until I can get another gun and come in through the back."

She shrugs, popping another snackoo in her mouth. "It's pretty simple."

It may be simple to her, but Apollo suddenly finds himself unspeakably grateful.

There's a part of him that's stuck on one part of her recollection in particular, one that's repeating to him over and over- _I'm pretty sure that he's going to do something crazy whether I'm there or not._

Apollo can feel shivers run down his spine at the very thought. If Ema wasn't there... Klavier _did_ do some crazy things that night, and if he was the last resort, if he knew that no one else was coming...

Apollo can't even imagine.

Would Klavier have shot Kristoph?

Wait no, he wouldn't even have a gun. He'd probably run in, pleading, trying to find reason where none existed- and then what? Be taken down by Kristoph? Be murdered just after Apollo, or broken just enough to be molded back into place?

Apollo closes his eyes, face twisting. _No._

"Thanks." Apollo says suddenly, and he opens his eyes again to see Ema looking a bit confused.

"I mean..." Apollo rubs the back of his neck. How to explain this. "I... I never said it that night. So thank you."

Ema isn't questioning it.

She raises a hand and salutes him, beaming. "No problem! I mean, someone's gotta keep you idiot lawyers alive."

Apollo can feel himself relaxing, muscles going slack as he returns the grin. There's something inherently relaxing about seeing Ema smiling, so much so that the sight is just... _nice._

Apollo just wishes it wasn't this rare.

All of a sudden there's a shrill beeping noise, and the two of them jump. Apollo's eyes dart around the room. Wh-where the hell is that even coming from?!

Ema seems to know, judging by the way she's patting her pockets, almost like she's searching for something. She grabs a phone out of her bag, checking the notification that pops up. "Ah, shit. Break's over. Feel better, Apollo!"

Apollo barely has time to process what just happened before she's standing up and pushing the chair away, walking over to the door in a few utilitarian strides. She has it opened in another second, but then it's like she's been set in slow motion.

Ema pauses, hand resting on the door. Her face falls like she's just realized something, and she turns to look Apollo in the eyes. "You... you don't think the rest of this is going to be easy, do you?"

Apollo resists the urge to laugh. Was it _ever_ easy?

Apollo settles on giving her a wan smile. "I guess... I can hope."

Apollo only wishes that he believed that as much as it sounds like he does.

* * *

 **o shit what is up**


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry this took so long! I hope it's worth the wait!**

* * *

"Sir!"

The guard reappears in the doorway, door swinging closed behind him as he salutes. "I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Gavin maintains that he doesn't want to see anyone."

Apollo sighs, closing his eyes. He pushes his index finger against his forehead harder, scrunching up his face.

This is downright impossible.

Apollo's been in the detention center for an agonizing ten minutes now, stuck in this ridiculous squabble with Klavier. Klavier isn't seeing anyone, according to the tired looking guard, and he's not backing down no matter what Apollo pleads. Klavier's been in this period of self-enforced isolation for days, apparently, despite many different people requesting a meeting.

Apollo's actually starting to feel kind of sorry for the guard, who's been relaying the messages between the two back and forth since Apollo arrived.

"Inform him that this visit isn't optional!" Apollo snaps. He makes a huffing noise, continuing under his breath as he looks at the empty chair across from him. "He's such an idiot."

"Sir."

Apollo looks up again. The guard shifts uncomfortably, almost like he regrets speaking now that Apollo's glare is focused back on him.

It looks like the guard is grappling with something as he rubs the back of his neck; not meeting Apollo's eyes until he finally speaks. "If… if I may… Maybe it'd help if you let me tell him who you are."

The finger is off Apollo's forehead in a flash, and Apollo's leaning forwards in his chair. "No!"

"No, no," Apollo repeats, shaking his head. "That'd… he'd never agree to the meeting if he knew it was me. Just tell him that it's urgent, and unconditional."

It's silent then.

Apollo takes the awkward quiet to shift back to his regular position, settling his back against the chair and closing his eyes. "…please."

The guard shrugs, disappearing through the door yet again. There's a soft click as it shuts behind him.

Apollo collapses the second the guard is out of sight, leaning back against the chair like he's boneless.

This is terribly hard.

Yeah, Apollo was frustrated about Klavier's detainment for days now, trapped in the hospital and unable to affect change, but it's wholly different now that he's faced with the reality of the situation. Never, in any of his imaginings, did Klavier completely refuse to see Apollo, nor did he shut himself up and refuse to listen to anyone.

Apollo groans. If only the real Klavier was as reasonable as the Klavier in Apollo's head. They'd probably be home by now, back to normal and happy as could be.

The door creaks again, light from the hallway spilling into the room. Apollo cracks open an eye. "And?"

Judging by the exhausted look on the guard's face, nothing.

"Nada," the guard confirms with a sigh. He really looks tired of this. "Sir, do you want to try again tomorrow?"

"No." Apollo sits up again, clenching his teeth. "Tell him that I'm not leaving until I see him, and that's final. I can be pretty stubborn, too."

The guard turns to leave again, and Apollo just barely catches him rolling his eyes and muttering something that sounds suspiciously like the world _asinine._

Apollo snickers. It's true, after all. If their court cases are any evidence, him and Klavier will never reach anything but a stalemate when it comes to conflicting passion.

Yeah, Apollo's genuinely sorry now, he can't imagine what it'd be like to get stuck in the middle of a lovers' spat like this. The poor guard's probably just trying to do his job.

Still, what Apollo said just now was true- and he _means_ it, too. He didn't even stop at home after being released from the hospital, he just ordered Mr. Edgeworth to drive him directly here (his bike is still at the WAA, so Mr. Edgeworth was nice enough to offer Apollo a ride). Apollo had marched right in- well, as best he could with his foot and all- and demanded to see Klavier immediately, only to get stuck in this.

Apollo scowls. There's no way he's giving up now.

Apollo turns at the sound of groaning hinges, readying himself for standing his ground again, and sees… nothing?

Apollo's only begun to frown, thinking that it's weird when there's a shuffling noise to the left of him.

Oh. Wrong door.

Apollo turns back to face the window, which means that- oh, _finally._ There's someone walking to the chair across from Apollo, bent over and looking down.

Look's like Apollo's getting his meeting after all.

"Look, Herr Edgeworth," Klavier rambles as soon as he sits down, not even looking up to face Apollo. "I appreciate it, but in the end I'm not worth-"

His chin tilts up, and his eyes meet Apollos'. "…it."

Apollo can't hide the pain on his face when they make eye contact. He never could, not from Klavier.

Fuck, Klavier just looks _awful._ The stubble on his chin is darker now, almost a beard at this point. His hair is unwashed and choppy as it was the last time, almost like it'd been cut with a weed whacker. That's not even to speak of his gaunt cheeks and the bags under his eyes- it almost looks like he hasn't eaten or slept since that night.

Of course, Apollo thinks suddenly, heartbeat racing into overdrive; he wouldn't put _any_ of that past Klavier.

Apollo swallows. He knows that he should say something, but it's hard. He's overcome with a swell of emotion, the need to comfort Klavier, to cup his face and shush his worries and his fears. He wants to hold Klavier, watch his face relax and expression fade into bliss with Apollo's arms around him.

Except… Apollo _knows_ that Klavier won't accept it, he _knows_ that Klavier doesn't want to be helped, and that's what makes it all worse.

That's what makes it all unbearable.

Klavier's eyes fall again. He's staring at the ground, jaw clenched. "…Apollo."

Apollo's just managed to gather enough thoughts to open his mouth when Klavier's talking again.

His eyes are closed now, head tilted to face the ceiling. "I have nothing to say to you. Please leave."

W-what?!

Apollo feels like he's been slapped in the face. Is Klavier _mad_ at him?! That- that _feels_ like the only possible reason for this, but fuck, what has Apollo done wrong?

The voice in the back of Apollo's head is happy to answer. _Besides for not being able to tell him and his homicidal brother apart?_ It asks. _Oh, I don't know… maybe kissing said homicidal brother…_

Apollo swallows. Klavier _said_ that he wasn't mad about that, but it was still pretty horrible. Apollo can't imagine how he'd feel if _his_ brother was Kristoph and Klavier kissed Kristoph- uh, well he isn't sure if that's quite analogous to this, and it's weird to imagine Klavier and Kristoph kissing anyways, because that's incest and all- you know what? Apollo's abandoning this train of thought. He really doesn't want to know where it leads. Let's just say that this might be as much Apollo's fault as it is Klavier's and be done with it.

"I'm sorry!" Apollo blurts. "I'm sorry, I should have figured it out sooner. I'm sorry I kissed him, that was really stupid of me. I wouldn't have done it if I'd known!"

"W-was?!" Klavier sounds plain alarmed by the time he's facing Apollo again.

Apollo can't stop talking. "I know it's all my fault, and you were really brave and you fixed it all, and I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

Apollo pauses to take a breath, but his concentration is broken as soon as he notices Klavier.

"Nein, nein!" Klavier's barely more than a blur of motion with how animatedly he's scowling, shaking his head vehemently. "Nein, you haven't done anything wrong. It's all _my_ fault, _I'm_ the one who worked with Kristoph and hurt everyone. You have done nothing wrong. You're the victim."

Klavier chuckles, stilling and looking down. "Gott, I shouldn't even have the right to _look_ at you. I've done _so much_ to hurt you, you nearly _died_ because of me."

Apollo's staring at the ground. Okay, so maybe it isn't his fault.

Don't get Apollo wrong, he's relieved that Klavier isn't mad at him, but… damn it, Klavier being mad at himself isn't much better. From the looks of things, this is going to go downhill fast. It already feels awfully close to that Saturday night- and that's one place Apollo _never_ wants to revisit.

"I betrayed you, as well as everyone else we know." Klavier grits his teeth. "You all _trusted_ me, and I sold you out to Kristoph. I… just don't come back here again, Apollo. Leave now."

Klavier sighs, closing his eyes. "It's what I deserve. I should be alone. I've failed."

Well.

Apparently _"this is downright impossible"_ was a gross understatement, from what Apollo's being faced with now.

Uh… maybe Apollo can start with some clarification. It's not like he's expecting logic, but he can at least _try_ to understand what's going through Klavier's head right now.

"Failed what?" Apollo asks, pressing his finger against his forehead.

Klavier blinks. "I… I was created for Kristoph, ja? That's my purpose. That's why I exist at all. I'm supposed to be there for him, and I've failed. I'm supposed to be-"

He's clutching his head now, shaking. "Gott, I don't even know. I don't know what I am anymore. You _heard_ him, Apollo, I'm an _experiment_. All this time I thought I could change, I believed you and I thought that I could do good, but I was wrong. I'm _Kristoph's_. I can't let you release me because I'm just as evil as he is, because I'll just hurt more people if I'm not stopped. I was _made_ to be that way."

Klavier manages to bring his eyes to Apollos' again, thought he's shivering so hard that it's difficult to hold eye contact. "I- I'm a monster, Apollo."

Fuck.

Apollo's pretty sure that he's been gaping at Klavier for a solid minute by now, jaw hanging open and eyes wide. Well… well _fuck,_ how the hell is he supposed to counter _that?!_ If Klavier honestly believes that… Apollo's done for before he's really begun.

"Kri-" Apollo stops himself before he finishes the phrase. Wait, no. That's a bad start. This isn't about Kristoph.

"That's not who you are, Klavier." Steady, steady. Klavier's flinching. Go slow, Apollo. "Kristoph was talking about _manipulating_ you, right? That must mean that there was something to manipulate. He was twisting what you saw, lying to you, using the good in you to control you."

"Then what am I?" Klavier asks. All of a sudden it's the Misham Trial all over again, the unanswerable questions paired with the way Klavier looks hurt, like he's in physical pain. "Why do I exist, Apollo? What have I _done,_ in all this time?"

"Klavier-!" Apollo winces. He can't believe this. How can anybody have to answer this question?! I-isn't this obvious?! He's done _so much..._ "You've- you've written music, you've ended the Dark Age of the Law, and…"

Apollo takes a shaky breath. "You've changed _me,_ Klavier. You've helped me to trust you, and other people, and to let things go and relax. You teased me when I was uptight, taught me things when I didn't know, and helped me through court cases and dates and-"

Apollo's choking up. He can't go on, there's too much to push through, but he can't tear his eyes from Klavier.

Klavier's trembling again.

"I'm supposed to _protect_ people, Apollo." Klavier whispers. "I'm supposed to help them. Nothing I've given you is worth what I've taken away, what I've _almost_ caused… a split second later and you would have _died_ , Apollo."

The thought manages to set a match and the fire is back, Klavier's spitting the next words. "I've failed, Apollo, can't you see?! I'm not supposed to be like this!"

"You aren't what you think! You are good enough!" Apollo argues. He can feel his heart pounding; mind racing for a comeback to everything Klavier throws at him. Every word from Klavier's mouth is a bullet from the firing squad, unavoidable and fatal.

Klavier only laughs at that. It's cold, and it sounds similar enough to Kristoph to make Apollo shiver. "Don't be fooled, Apollo. My halo's made of lies and cardboard, ja? All I've done is hurt you. All of your hard work keeping me alive, and the second I see my brother again it's all undone, _I'm_ undone at his feet and following every instruction he gives me."

Klavier looks thoughtful for a second. "Ach, I truly am pathetic. I didn't even kill myself right."

"Don't talk like that!" Apollo hisses, narrowing his eyes. _That_ crossed the line. He's seeing pure red. "Don't- don't you _dare!_ Klavier, you're being… delusional! Stop it! Snap _out of it!_ "

"But Kristoph is _right_ , Apollo!" Klavier slams his hands into the table, and Apollo can't help but cringe at the sound. "He's right, I don't know real pain. I'm just pathetic and easily hurt. All I've _done_ is made things worse for everyone! Ended the Dark Age of the Law? All I've _done_ is ruined people, ruined _everything_ my _brother_ was!"

" _He's_ the one who _murdered_ people, Klavier!" Apollo's voice is rising, he's nearly shouting now. Come on, Klavier can't _really_ believe the crap he's saying, no one could!

"Ja, and I _helped him!_ You think he would have gotten away without _me?!"_ Klavier leans in towards the window, not even taking a breath before he begins shooting off questions. "Who got Herr Wright disbarred? Who was perfectly ready to find Tobaye and Misham guilty?"

"You did your _job!"_ Apollo interjects, but Klavier just shakes his head, laughing as he draws back.

"I didn't do my job. I just found it easier to think that _children_ murdered people than accuse the people I loved." Klavier's eyes are closed again, jaw twitching and unsteady.

"K-Klavier," Apollo sputters. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, he can't keep from internally yelling at himself to get up and keep on going. Come on! Think, Apollo, think! Strategize! What will help now?!

Apollo takes a deep breath. Ask questions. Figure out his position. You can't hit the target if you don't know what you're trying to hit, right? "What are you trying to do?"

Klavier's smile is colder than Apollo's ever seen it. Forget the laugh earlier, _this_ is like Kristoph.

For a split second Apollo's almost scared that it _is_ Kristoph, that Kristoph's fooled Apollo into thinking he was Klavier again. It's horrifying to see Kristoph's bitter frigidity on Klavier's face, to see his mocking smile playing on Klavier's lips.

Klavier answers with that simpering smile, copying Kristoph's frosty guise of amusement. "My job, nein? I'm dealing out justice. Giving each their due. I'm imprisoning the man who nearly killed the man I love."

Ema's words come floating back to Apollo. _I think he's going to press charges against himself, at this rate._

"You… want… to be tried?" Apollo feels around for the answer, but he really doesn't know what Klavier's getting at here.

"Nein. Not tried." Klavier shakes his head, continuing to smile in that too-familiar, unsettling way. "I want to be _found guilty_."

Apollo bristles with anger. Oh, no. Not if he can help it.

"Well." Apollo sets his jaw. "I'm a defense attorney. I _don't_ want you found guilty, and I'm here to convince you that you're not."

Klavier looks confused, so Apollo plows on. "You want to be found guilty? Fine, but I'll do everything in my power to acquit you."

Apollo leans closer to the glass, making sure that there's no room for Klavier to escape his eyes. Time for the real question. "If I prove you innocent, then will you accept it?"

Klavier bursts out laughing.

He throws his head back, wheezing, breathless, and it's Kristoph all over again- eerily so. It's the Misham Trial all over again, sitting there helpless and watching as he shakes with laughter, unable to control it. Klavier's laugh booms throughout the room, hysterical and frenzied.

Apollo can't hold back his shiver.

In all the time he's known Klavier, that laugh has been a relief to hear; the final cavalry returning to push back against whatever foe exists. Klavier's laughter is supposed to be a sign of courage, a bold ringing in the face of any obstacle. This… this _cold, unfeelingness…_ this is Klavier inverted, a sinister callback to Kristoph.

It's a mockery of everything Klavier stands for.

"Sure, why not?" Klavier snickers, still shaking as the laugh dies down. "It's an impossible case, we both know that I helped Kristoph."

He's outright grinning now, a wicked smile to match his laugh. "Do your worst, Apollo Justice."

Apollo balls his fists. Aha! Looks like he's found a way in.

So… alright, now all Apollo has to do is win with Klavier's internalized guilt and crushed feelings of self worth.

Easy.

Apollo pushes the sarcasm aside and swallows. "Ok. I'll need…"

Come on, think, Apollo! How do you get out of holes? How do you flip the case around?

"Testimony." Apollo decides. "I need you to testify about everything that happened."

Klavier nods easily- too easily. Apollo's struck with a sudden worry. "Truthfully, Klavier! No omissions, no exaggerations. I'm trusting you now."

Klavier laughs again, though it's more mellowed now. "All the trust in the world does not make a man trustworthy, Apollo."

Apollo clenches his jaw. Damn it, he's not here to play word games!

Apollo tries to keep his voice tempered. "I just want the truth, Klavier. All of it."

Klavier nods again. "And the truth you shall get. I will try to be a satisfactory witness for you."

Apollo takes a breath, closing his eyes and mentally preparing himself for what's about to come. Ok. Klavier's life is on the line, and if Apollo doesn't win this fake court simulation, he's lost the person dearest to him.

Yeah, just another ordinary trial in the life of an ace attorney. What else is new? The stakes are high, palms sweaty and heart pounding- it's all second nature to Apollo.

If anyone can win this now, he can.

Apollo opens his eyes again. Here goes nothing.

"Please testify about your visit with Kristoph Gavin." Apollo requests, leaning back enough to sit up straight. That… that has to be it, right? He never got an answer from Klavier when he asked about it- so there must be a _reason_ behind it _._

"Ach… let's see…" Klavier taps a finger against his lips, thinking. "It was a Saturday. You drove me over to the jail, parked just outside. You were worried and opposed to the meeting, so I told you that I would be back in a second as I was leaving. I wanted to put you at ease."

Ok, so far so good. Apollo nods for Klavier to continue.

"I…" Klavier swallows, and all of a sudden he's cringing, vulnerable. "I felt relieved to see my brother again, even if… I wish I didn't. I wish I could hate him, I really do. It's easy to tell myself that I do, but when I saw him then… it was hard to."

Apollo winces in sympathy. He knows the feeling like the back of his own hand. It's a terrible, stomach-crushing feeling; one where you don't trust yourself or your own feelings as far as you can throw them.

"What did he say to you?" Apollo asks, and Klavier purses his lips, considering.

"When he began speaking to me, it felt oddly familiar. I realized then that he'd never really left, that he'd been there all along. He's right; he _is_ inside of my head, Apollo. His voice never left my thoughts, I'd…" Klavier's voice breaks there, falling to a hoarse whisper. "I'd never really let go."

Apollo's fighting to keep himself steady now. He wants nothing more than to hold Klavier, to kiss it better and tell Klavier that it's alright, that it's over now, but he can't.

He knows that Klavier would just fight him.

Apollo has to win first.

Apollo repeats his question. "What did he say?"

"He said that I didn't know anything." Klavier begins. "He helped me remember that I'm weak and pathetic and thin-skinned. He reminded me that I'm nothing, that he _made_ me what little I am."

"So… he insulted and demeaned you?" Apollo asks, and Klavier shakes his head, snapping his fingers.

"It's not demeaning if it's true," Klavier retorts, and Apollo shakes his head in return, narrowing his eyes.

"Sorry, it still is- not that any of that was true, anyways." Apollo adds. "So, we've established that the second you two met again, Kristoph reasserted his dominance and tried to regain his control over you."

The second the words are out of his mouth, Apollo feels better. Hey, that's good! _There's_ the foundation for a case!

Although, then again, maybe it isn't. Klavier doesn't look anything but calm.

"He never _lost_ control, Apollo." Klavier says steadily, dangerously so. It's the steadiest his voice has been all day, collected and cool. "And either way, his actions do not excuse my own. I am still guilty."

"What else did he say?" Apollo asks, refusing to be fazed. Two can play at this game.

Klavier sighs, returning to his testimony.

"He informed me that… that he could break out. That he'd figured it out, that it was so easy that even I could have broken out." Klavier continues. "He wouldn't tell me how, though."

That's pretty sound, apart from the not-so-subtle stab at Klavier. "Then what?"

"He said… he- he said that the first thing that he'd do…" Klavier's voice cracks, giving out suddenly. His hands fly to his head, clutching it as he trembles, face pulled into a grimace.

Apollo feels his heart skip a beat at the sight. For a split second he wonders if he really wants to know what happened then- but the feeling is gone in an instant, shoved away by a determination to save Klavier.

Apollo has to know. It's his _job_ to know.

Klavier manages to pull himself together enough to whisper it, shivering uncontrollably, teeth chattering. "He said that he'd kill you."

Apollo's eyes widen. Oh.

Well that's… _oh_.

"I… there was a part of me that thought that he was bluffing, but I was scared. I was terrified. I know what he's capable of, Apollo, and I knew that he very well could."

Klavier stares downwards, expression blank. "I see now that he lead me to it, but… I was the one who suggested the switch. I told him I'd help him if he didn't hurt you."

Klavier's shoulders are shuddering; he's trembling all over. "I begged, Apollo! I was desperate! I couldn't let… I _wouldn't_ let… I… anything but you, he can take _anything_ but you. A-and you nearly died anyways! I… I… I was so _stupid,_ I actually thought he'd keep his word!"

"Klavier…" Apollo leans in, trying with all his might to keep his voice soothing and steady. It feels out of place to hear about himself being threatened like that, to hear how _Kristoph…_ how he nearly…

No. Apollo can't burden himself with what ifs. He needs to reassure Klavier, to remind him that it's alright, that Apollo's fine now.

Besides, there's something far more important in that statement: a way out.

A grin sneaks onto Apollo's face despite his best efforts, he just can't help it. He's excited. This is it. This is the break he was looking for. "Klavier… he _blackmailed_ you!"

"Nein!" Klavier yelps rather loudly, slamming his fist into the table. "That's not- that's-"

"He blackmailed you!" Apollo repeats, almost laughing with relief. "He threatened me to get you to cooperate. That's a criminal offense. You're not responsible for anything. You're _not guilty._ "

"Even so!" Klavier raises a finger. " _Even so,_ I am responsible for my actions. I trusted a known criminal _and_ didn't notify the police."

"That's a fine at worst." Apollo shakes his head. "And you-"

Apollo's eyes widen. It's all falling into place now. How didn't he see it before?

" _Fuck,_ you were telling me all along! You- you tried to break up with me on Saturday, you tried to tell me not to trust you anymore on Monday morning- you were putting me on guard! You were trying to tell me that something was wrong!"

" _Exactly!"_ Klavier insists. "I _hinted_ and danced around the subject! I never told you outright! It is only because of _me_ that Kristoph's- that _my_ plan went off without a hitch!"

"You went to see me on the subway," Apollo says numbly, as though he didn't even hear Klavier's objection. "You wanted to see if I was ok. It could have doomed the plan if I noticed that it was you."

Everything goes silent for a moment.

"The-" Klavier finally manages to choke out. "The defendant's… _feelings_ for the defense are irrelevant. I still did not help you."

"No," Apollo leans in, hands curled into fists. He gets it now. He gets why Klavier said _thank you,_ back on the subway. "I helped _you_. I… whatever I said helped you."

Klavier's silent for a moment, gulping. He's still shaking, but it's lessened now.

"Don't you see, Apollo?" Klavier looks up, making eye contact with Apollo. His voice returns to its normal volume. "I set right my wrongs. I went to the police, I ran in and I tried to stop my brother. I tried to save you. Now I have to finish what I started. I have to completely atone for what I've done, what I _tried_ to do."

"You came back!" Apollo retorts, nearly yelling. "You came back, even though he was threatening me! You came back with a gun in your hand and no intention of backing down!"

"Ja, and I nearly got you _killed!"_ Klavier retorts, slamming a fist on the table.

It quivers under the force of his blow, and the clang echoes throughout the room.

 _Fuck!_

Apollo curses it all in his head, frustrated through and through. There's only so far Apollo can go back and forth like this. He can't think of anything anymore.

This is going nowhere.

Still, Apollo can't give up! _Everything_ is on the line right now, and he's going to get Klavier to accept his innocence if it's the last thing he ever does!

Apollo presses his finger against his forehead. Come on, think! Apollo needs a new angle, he needs _something_ that can finally convince Klavier.

What could convince him? What matters _most_ to Klavier?

 _Aha._

Apollo looks up, triumphant. He's got it.

"You… you claim that you nearly got me killed, right?" Apollo recalls, tapping the finger to his forehead.

Klavier nods, brow furrowing. Ah, he's confused. He doesn't know what Apollo's doing.

"That's correct. You did." Apollo agrees. A gloating smile rushes onto Klavier's face, but Apollo is quick to hold up a hand, stopping Klavier mid-victory. "Let me finish."

Apollo's hand drops, and his eyes lock onto Klavier's. He can't be anything but sincere staring into that shade of blue, that endless sky contained in a gorgeous face.

"I… I still love you."

Klavier looks taken aback, eyes wide as he stares at Apollo.

He wasn't expecting this.

His mouth opens and closes like he's going to say something, but Apollo presses on.

Apollo has to keep on going.

He can't be interrupted now.

"I love you because I know what you have in you." Apollo continues, clenching his fists. "I know the action hero Klavier that can walk into the room and point a gun at Kristoph's head like it's nothing; I know the sheer strength it takes just to defy him. I love you because I know you can do it, and that you _will_ do it."

Apollo leans in, ready to deliver the final blow. "It's not like you to give up, Klavier."

"G-give up?" Klavier gapes helplessly at Apollo. He looks absolutely lost.

"Yeah, give up. You're giving up on _yourself._ " Apollo lets his face relax, and he smiles. It's gentle, close and inoffensive. "I won't abandon Klavier Gavin, and I won't let you, either."

Apollo raises a hand to the glass, pressing it against the window. This is the closest Apollo can get to touching Klavier, and that _hurts,_ unimaginably so _._ The glass is a poor stand in for Klavier, especially with how Apollo's hand is sticking to the glass, sweaty and desperate for touch.

Apollo's leaning against the window separating them, holding his hand down on the glass, reaching for Klavier the best he can. "I really do _love_ you, Klavier."

Klavier almost looks like he's shrinking, taken off guard. It hits Apollo that he probably never expected to hear those words again, that Klavier probably told himself over and over to let go, that Apollo was long gone.

It's hard to keep himself together thinking like this, and much as he tries, Apollo can't keep his voice from cracking. "The- the defense rests."

It's silent then.

Klavier is bent over; crumpled after being tossed between the shock and relief. He's breathing heavily, laughing with disbelief.

When he's able to look up again Klavier's eyes are shining, wet with tears. "I-"

He raises a hand to the window, positioned perfectly to mirror Apollo's. The sight makes Klavier break down, smiling _genuinely_ in that typical, sweet Klavier fashion that Apollo fell in love with.

There's a little sob in his voice, and Apollo's suddenly aware that Klavier is crying.

"T-the prosecution rests as well."

Apollo manages to pant out a laugh, completely giddy. O-oh fuck. Klavier's conceded. Apollo's- Apollo's _done_ it. _Somehow,_ he's managed to do it. He's won, and this is the most a victory has ever meant to him.

Klavier is safe.

There's a sudden cracking sound, and the two of them jump. Apollo stares at Klavier- he looks just as surprised as Apollo feels, so he didn't make the noise- and before Apollo can ask, there's another crack.

 _Oh._ That's a slow clap. It sounds tinny, reverberating around the room unnaturally. Apollo glances around, searching for the source of the sound- is that… the loudspeaker?

As though to answer his question, a voice comes from the loudspeaker.

"Congratulations. I do believe that this was one of your more spirited defenses, Mr. Justice. Wright told me that you were good, but…"

The door opens, and- what the actual _fuck?!_ Is that… is that _Miles Edgeworth_?

Mr. Edgeworth is smirking as he walks in, crossing his arms. "The jury is back, and the verdict is decided. Not guilty."

 _What?!_

Apollo blinks. He knows that he's been thinking this a lot in the last few days but… fuck it. This _has_ to be a dream- or probably a hallucination, judging by the sheer absurdity of what's happening now.

Still, what the actual- how does Mr. Edgeworth know what Apollo and Klavier were just talking about? "W-what? You heard all that?"

"Be sure to specify a private meeting next time, Justice." Mr. Edgeworth holds up a finger, wagging it. "Not just anyone can listen in, but the Chief Prosecutor does indeed have certain rights."

Klavier stops gaping and manages to pull himself together enough to say something. "Ach, Herr Edgeworth, w-what are you trying to say?"

"Not guilty." Mr. Edgeworth repeats. "All charges dropped- not that there were any in the first place. And if anyone objects, the blackmail defense would do nicely."

He looks at Klavier over the rims of his glasses, smirking. "In other words: you're free to go, Gavin."

"J-ja, of course." Klavier's frozen for a moment, like he's buffering and waiting for the reality of the situation to set in.

Klavier lets out the breath he was holding with a laugh, letting his eyes relax and his shoulders drop. The sound is distinctly _Klavier,_ entirely his and his alone.

He's still beaming by the time the guard enters his end of the room, muttering something about _these damned problematic lawyers_ under his breath. Apollo guesses that Mr. Edgeworth must have called the guard over to let Klavier go. Releasing someone with no charges against them has to be within Mr. Edgeworth's powers as the Chief Prosecutor, right?

Klavier's out of his seat in an instant, following the guard back through the door that he came in from. Apollo's grinning; he can't keep the smile off his face as he stares at the empty chair across from him. It's positively real now, he's _won._ He's managed to fix it all, somehow.

Apollo's never known a better feeling.

"I'll take care of the paperwork, Justice."

It takes a second for Apollo to process that Mr. Edgeworth is talking to him. "H-huh?"

"I'll handle the legal work." Mr. Edgeworth's smile is kind now, warmer as he stares down at Apollo. "Not to worry, this excursion won't show up on your boyfriend's rather spotless career. I'll see to that."

"Thank you, sir!" Apollo stands up so quickly that he's unsteady on his feet, and he stares at Mr. Edgeworth for a second- what, does he shake hands with him, or hug him, or-

The door on their side swings open before Apollo can come up with an answer.

Klavier strides in, thanking Mr. Edgeworth profusely and loudly, but Apollo isn't paying attention to what he's saying. It's white noise compared to the sight of him now, seeing _Klavier Gavin_ again. Klavier's mouth is moving animatedly and his fingers snap, and all Apollo can do is stare.

There's something weird about seeing Klavier now, seeing him real and concrete and _within arm's reach_ for the first time in since that night. There's something about seeing Klavier at ease like this, especially remembering the way he shook that night, unsteady on his legs, clutching a gun and trying to keep his face brave.

The sight of Klavier snapping his fingers in that oh-so- _Klavier_ fashion and _knowing_ that it's alright, _knowing_ that it's safe now and that it's ok to love Klavier… it's all washing over Apollo, overwhelming him, and now he's weak at the knees.

"K-Klavier," Apollo manages to choke out somehow. Klavier turns to look at him and- fuck, those eyes have sent Apollo over the edge, he can't see or feel anything but _blue_ and the _relief,_ knowing that he's done it, knowing that he's made it through all of this somehow.

He's moving towards Klavier now, Apollo doesn't know quite when he made the decision to but fuck it, he's throwing his arms around Klavier's chest and holding tight. Apollo's pressing into Klavier, hands searching his back to feel every inch of him, trying to remember what Klavier Gavin feels like after all this time. It feels so _good,_ so irrefutably _amazing_.

Klavier's arms wind around Apollo, hands stroking Apollo's back. "S-schatz? Are you crying?"

Oh. That's why Klavier's shirt is wet all of a sudden.

Apollo shifts to bury his face in Klavier's chest. He needs to stop crying, everything is fine now, but all he can feel is the heat building behind his eyes. "Yeah. I feel kind of stupid."

There's a hand in his hair now, running through to cup the back of his head. "It's alright, Apollo. It's fine now."

That only makes more tears well in Apollo's eyes, and he tightens his arms around Klavier. "I- I was just thinking…"

Apollo swallows, fisting his hands in the back of Klavier's shirt. "It's so _good_ to have you back again."

Klavier's hand traces along the circumference of Apollo's head, feather light touches down Apollo's jawline to rest at his chin. Klavier's fingers wrap around Apollo's chin, gently tilting Apollo's face upwards to look him in the eyes.

Klavier's smiling brightly enough to blind a man when he rests his forehead against Apollo's, happier than Apollo's seen him in forever.

"It's good to be back, Apollo."

* * *

 **if someone ever tells u that u can't write references to gavincest and darths &droids into the same chapter don't believe them and just follow ur dreams that's what I did**


	22. Chapter 22

**oh mein gott we made it**

* * *

It's weird.

When Apollo closes his eyes, it's almost like none of it ever happened.

It's weird, how easy it is to lie against Klavier's chest and doze off. How easy it is to forget what it was like when Klavier was gone. It's almost natural, the way Apollo forgets feeling like he's lost a limb, how he forgets the ache of _needing_ Klavier back.

It's weird, how easy it is to walk into the living room. How hard it is to recall the bloodstains on the ground and the ear-splitting gunshots ripping through the air, like Apollo really did imagine them. (He knows he didn't. At least, he thinks he does.)

It's weird, how easy it is for Apollo to slip on his bracelet again and feel the familiar weight on his wrist, like he never took it off. Like he wasn't vulnerable for days, like he's always known when people are lying to him.

It's weird, remembering that Apollo and Klavier very nearly missed death.

It's just plain weird to think about, especially on a day like this. It's sleepy and warm all around, quiet and undisturbed. There's something irrevocably peaceful about the languid rays of sun stretching through the room, about how they color Klavier darker in orange light. Everything around Apollo feels slow and relaxed, like the air has been turned to syrup. Like he's never been in any danger at all, like that night was just a crazy dream.

There hasn't been much to do lately, especially since Apollo and Klavier are both under strict orders to not even _think_ about working. It's not as frustrating as Apollo would usually think- there's something calming about domestic life with Klavier, something that brightens every day with soft happiness. Apollo and Klavier have been on walks around People Park, hand in hand in the brisk morning air, they've been out to eat often at nice restaurants, and they've visited the Wrights a couple of times- you know, mushy couple stuff like that.

It's relaxing.

Apollo may be the hardworking sort, but damn it, he could get used to being pampered like this. Today he woke up at noon, for fuck's sake. It's amazing.

That's not to say that he's _done_ anything since he woke up. No, Apollo hasn't done much more than stumble over to the couch, crawling onto Klavier and lying down on top of him.

"Guten morgen," Klavier says in a sleep-hoarse voice, brushing Apollo's hair back to kiss the top of Apollo's head.

"Mmm." Apollo rests his head on Klavier's chest, sighing. He loves being this close to Klavier, feeling the warmth of Klavier's tanned skin against his. It's so simple, yet so _nice._

Klavier exhales, smiling. He's still being kind of quiet, normally he'd be teasing and laughing, but this is good enough. Smiling is good enough.

Apollo can't ask for much more this soon.

"Sleep well?" he asks. Apollo nods, crossing his arms and resting his chin on them. He's lying on his stomach, breathing in sync with Klavier. He needed to lift his head so he could gaze at Klavier, drink in that gorgeous face.

It only takes a second for Apollo to frown. Something about Klavier feels different all of a sudden, and after… _that,_ Apollo's not about to let something like this go. Apollo takes the opportunity to study Klavier's face, scanning clear blue eyes and cheekbones and glossy lips and- ah. A bare chin.

That's new.

"I'm glad you've finally remembered to shave," Apollo mumbles, pressing his lips against Klavier's jawline. Ah, that feels nice. Smooth. Warm. That's quite the step in the right direction.

Klavier laughs, deep and rumbling under Apollo's stomach. "A shame. Herr Wright said that I looked quite rugged."

"Mmm. You did." Apollo will give him that. "It was kinda scratchy, though."

Apollo makes a face, remembering how rough the stubble felt. It turns out that it's kind of hard to kiss your boyfriend when doing so always has that stubble pricking against you, like sandpaper rubbing against your skin. To say that it was a contrast to the rest of Klavier- the _soft, bright_ rest of Klavier- would be an understatement.

Klavier's being rather slow about fixing the physical remnants of that night, particularly the ones on him. He's eating and sleeping again, thank goodness, but he's only just shaved now and his hair is still a mess. Apollo doesn't quite know why, but he doesn't want to press it. He knows better than anyone that healing is slow, that sometimes it doesn't make any sense.

He wishes he could be of more help, though.

"Ach! A necessary sacrifice, then." Klavier says with a smile, brushing his hands through Apollo's hair again. "Anything for my liebling."

Apollo freezes in place.

His heart is suddenly doing its best impression of a machine gun, echoing in his ears with a rush of blood.

It's unreasonable, and he knows it well, but all Apollo can think is _Kristoph._ It's all too familiar, the way Klavier's lounging back on the couch, not a care in the world, gently teasing Apollo. Suddenly Apollo's pulled back to that Monday afternoon, Klavier fading and the world around him paling.

 _Klavier's laughing, confessing to Apollo that he's been overusing the pet names, letting Apollo hug him like he's never letting go- except no, that's_ _ **Kristoph**_ _, and it's not 24 hours before he has a gun trained on Apollo's head, an arm tight around Apollo's neck and every intention of killing Apollo, of sending the real Klavier to join Apollo right afterwards._

Apollo squeezes his eyes shut. No. Go away, go away, this is all over now; he doesn't have to think about this anymore-

It only gets worse the second everything fades to black behind his eyelids. Now he can see it all, clear as the day it happened.

 _The world shakes and blurs as Apollo's lungs catch on fire, burning for air. There's Kristoph's voice, low and taunting in Apollo's ear, he's too close, too tight around Apollo's neck. Klavier's standing in the doorway, panicked, willing to give up anything if Kristoph just lets go, if Kristoph just-_

"Apollo?"

Apollo gives an involuntary shudder. That…. that _voice,_ that warm chest under Apollo- it's- it's Klavier, it's real, that's the real thing here, not the scene. _That's_ real. Nothing else is.

Kristoph's not real.

Apollo finally wrenches his eyes open, struggling for breath. _Come on, Apollo. Breathe. Breathe._

Apollo can't keep his breathing steady, much as he does try. His mouth is hanging open, gulping for air, and he's desperately trying to breathe deeply without being too loud. Apollo doesn't want to make a scene, he doesn't want anything to happen, he doesn't want to worry anyone-

No go. Klavier frowns under him, tilting his chin to look Apollo in the eyes.

"Did I say something?" Klavier asks, and Apollo shakes his head.

"N-no, it's nothing," Apollo says too quickly, and judging by the incredulous look on Klavier's face, he isn't taking that for an answer.

Apollo sighs. Right. Honesty. He needs to be open with Klavier, tell him the whole truth. "Liebling…"

At the word Apollo's throat is suddenly dry, like there are cotton balls stuffed in his mouth.

Apollo swallows. Klavier has to know. He uses German pet names so often that it would be unfair not to tell him. "That's… that's what Kristoph called me. Back when he was pretending to be you. I know it's stupid, but…"

Apollo lets his voice trail off, watching Klavier's face for a reaction.

Klavier's expression doesn't change. He only closes his eyes, swallowing visibly. "Ah."

He's silent, and Apollo's mentally kicking himself. Great job, Apollo. You've just compared him to his brother. Just what he needs, _now_ of all times.

Klavier bites his lip, and his face crinkles. He's worried, now Apollo's done it. "Would… would it bother you if I called you Herr Forehead again, just for a bit?"

Oh.

Oh, the worry was for _Apollo._

"No!" Apollo says instantly, and he can't help but feel relieved. "No, absolutely not. That'd help, actually."

Klavier's smile returns. "Herr Forehead it is, then. Anything for my Herr Forehead."

Apollo breathes a sigh of relief. Thank you, Klavier. Thank you for understanding what unreasonable fear is like, for understanding that Apollo needs to forget.

Klavier reaches over to kiss Apollo on the forehead, a soft, chaste touch to comfort him. Apollo sighs. The gentle contact just makes him feel so utterly _real_ and _safe,_ light enough to let the pent up air in his lungs rush out.

Apollo smiles, letting his head drop to Klavier's chest again. He raises a hand to run along Klavier's hair, toying with the frayed ends.

"Your hair…" Apollo breathes lazily, winding his fingers through Klavier's bangs. Klavier hasn't touched it since that night, excluding showers. "It's driving me nuts. It's so messy."

"Ja?" Klavier touches his bangs, frowning self-consciously. "Let this be a lesson to you, Herr Forehead: in the occasion in which you must cut off nearly a foot of your own hair, do not use kitchen scissors."

Apollo winces in sympathy. He's still playing with Klavier's bangs, cocking his head. "You know... I was just thinking that I wanted to give you a proper haircut."

All of a sudden Apollo remembers Klavier's recent aversion to change, and he continues. "If that's alright with you, of course."

Klavier's frown disappears in an instant and he's laughing, bright and- is that teasing? "Ach, are you a master hairdresser too, Herr Forehead?"

Apollo shifts, resting his chin on Klavier's chest again. He needs the vantage point to stare straight into Klavier's eyes. "No, but I do know enough to say that this isn't something you can do on your own."

Klavier doesn't have anything to say to that.

He's completely quiet for a moment, unmoving as he lets the words sink in. Klavier's eyes slide shut, and his lips part for a breath- he knows Apollo isn't just talking about the haircut, he _knows._ Apollo's talking about healing, about cleaning up and moving on.

Apollo doesn't want Klavier ever feeling alone again.

"Um…" Apollo lets go of Klavier's hair, leaning back. "How about you just wet your hair for now? Maybe wash it, quickly. Makes it easier to cut."

"Ja, absolutely." Klavier agrees, moving to sit up. Apollo scrambles off of him, moving backwards as Klavier rolls off the couch. Klavier shoots a wink at Apollo before walking off towards the master bathroom, humming. If Apollo strains, he can discern some melody- it's vaguely familiar, but unidentifiable.

Apollo closes his eyes, leaning back against the couch. It's only now that he's realizing how much he missed the little things, the little melodies Klavier hums and the winks that spice his conversations. Those are the purely _Klavier_ things, the things that worm their way into Apollo's heart and make it impossible for him to dislike Klavier. Those are the things that convinced Apollo to go out with Klavier in the first place, the things that make Klavier more than a sum of his parts.

Seeing him like this, sated and happy without a care in the world, is… it's just the greatest feeling. It's winning the lottery and saving the world all at once, burning glee all centered around one man. It's like pure bliss runs through Klavier's veins, like his lip gloss is made of sunlight.

Klavier is, simply put, a lightning conductor for happiness, and it's near impossible to feel anything but content around him.

Life just feels so ridiculously _good_ right now.

Apollo stands up, stretching a little. Right. Back to the task at hand. He'll need- uh, a towel, probably, and… y'know, considering his hair products, Klavier's gotta have a good pair of scissors around here somewhere, right?

Apollo gets up and follows Klavier to the master bathroom, noticing his shirt discarded on the bed- Apollo leans over and picks it up, slinging it over his shoulder before he makes it to the bathroom. The whole room is steamy and warm now, filled with the light rushing sound of running water.

Apollo grabs a towel from the rack, walking to the vanity opposite and wiping the steam off of the vanity mirror. They can do the haircut here, Klavier has to sit down to be shorter than Apollo.

Apollo lifts the chair of the vanity, tilting it enough to slip the towel under it as a precaution. Hopefully they won't be finding stray hairs on the floor 3 months from now.

Apollo makes his way around the chair, leaning over the vanity and sifting through the layers of products and odd contraptions that suspiciously resemble torture devices. They has to be somewhere around here…

Apollo makes a sound of frustration. Come on, he just needs a pair of scissors! Those shouldn't be hard to find, right?

No, no, no… Apollo picks up and discards bottles and tools as quickly as he can, making his way through every inch of the vanity until-

Aha!

Apollo holds up a pair of silver scissors, grinning. Yeah, this _has_ to be it!

"Ah, guten tag."

Perfect timing. There's Klavier, stepping out of the shower with- yep, no shirt. You know, when Apollo told him to wet his hair, Apollo didn't mean for Klavier to just take his shirt off and dunk his head under the water. That's just lazy.

Also, his shirt is off.

Klavier notices where Apollo's looking and how his cheeks are burning, and he gives an infuriating wink. Apollo rolls his eyes, but he thinks the picture is ruined by how much he's blushing.

Klavier reaches for the rack and grabs a towel, wrapping it around his hair. He flips it effortlessly, twisting it in that mysterious way girls in movies do to hold their hair in the towel. (Klavier's tried to explain it to Apollo before, but the art is completely lost on him. He's just showing off now).

Apollo points to the chair. "Sit. And get your hair out of that towel thing, too. Put your shirt back on."

Apollo tosses the shirt at a pouting Klavier, moving back to check the vanity for a comb. He can see Klavier out of the corner of his eye, tugging the towel out of his hair and shrugging his shirt back on.

"Towel around your shoulders, Klavier," Apollo instructs, glancing up to watch Klavier through the mirror. Klavier nods, wrapping it around his shoulders like a cape.

Apollo looks back down to the vanity, and- oh, _there's_ the comb. How didn't he see it before?

Apollo grabs the comb and uses it to gesture at the chair, waiting for Klavier to sit down.

Klavier follows his instructions; flashing a smile through the vanity mirror once he's seated. "Ja?"

"Well," Apollo makes his way around the chair, standing behind Klavier. "I'm not about to do anything fancy, but I'm pretty sure that I can even it out."

Klavier nods, eyes softening. "Sounds gut."

Ok, Apollo will take that as a green light. Watch out, world. Here begins the illustrious career of Apollo Justice, Ace Hairdresser.

Apollo runs the comb through Klavier's hair several times, trying to brush it out- and what do you know, it's sliding surprisingly smoothly through the wet hair. Point one for Apollo Justice.

Apollo has to admit; the repetition of it is kind of relaxing. Klavier's hair is thick and silky, so once Apollo manages to set a rhythm, the comb is gliding through the hair like water. It's soothing, moving in a cycle like this, not having to think. There's something about running the comb through all of that blonde hair, watching as the hair shines differently every time it's moved, how it curls at the bottom after the comb leaves.

Apollo steps back, appraising his work. Alright, it looks good now- not that Apollo would know, but Klavier seems like he trusts Apollo's judgment.

Alright it is, then.

Apollo sets down the comb, reaching for the scissors. Here comes the irreversible part, and there goes his confidence.

The scissors fit nicely into his hand, and Apollo breathes a sigh of relief. It almost feels like an omen- and at this point, Apollo will take what he can get. Thank you Klavier, and your too many hair products. Your fixation on having nice hair has saved you a lot of trouble in the end.

Apollo frowns. Wait… that raises a question.

"Uh… Klav?" Apollo finally asks, leaning down to trim the ends of Klavier's hair.

"Mmm?" Klavier almost sounds far away, like he does when he's nearly asleep. He looks relaxed in the mirror, all semblance of tension gone from his face.

"Why didn't you cut it with these scissors in the first place?" Apollo asks. It does seem a little weird, now that he's thinking about it. Klavier's crazy about that hair of his, why would he cut it this inefficiently?

Apollo glances up. Judging by Klavier's panicked look in the mirror, the way his eyes widened and his mouth opened, Apollo shouldn't have asked that.

"I…" Klavier closes his eyes, voice cracking. Apollo opens his mouth, taking a breath to tell Klavier that he doesn't have to answer, but Klavier goes on.

"I wasn't thinking straight." Klavier says carefully. " _He_ told me to become unrecognizable as quickly as possible, and I didn't want to imagine what would happen if I didn't. I needed to disappear in order for the plan to work."

Klavier's laughing now, incredulous and nervous at the same time. "It's ridiculous, ja? I'm one of the most recognizable men in the world. How do I hide?"

"It's… it's over, Klavier. It's okay now." Apollo repeats, trying to concentrate on the strands of hair between his fingers.

 _It's not real._

He thinks that he needs the reminder as much as Klavier does.

"J-ja." Klavier's voice sounds hollow and empty, like he's intentionally holding back the emotion. "He… he told me that I had to cut it all off. All of it."

Apollo looks briefly to the mirror, watching a smirk materialize on Klavier's face. "Ironic, nein? Have I ever told you why I grew it out in the first place?"

Apollo feels his stomach drop. "Don't tell me it was-"

"-to look like Kristoph?" Klavier finishes. "Ja. Ja, it was."

It's silent.

"I so wanted to be like him, Apollo." Klavier snarls. "I wanted to measure up to what he was- ach, what I _thought_ he was. The hair reminded me of my goal, staring back at me each time I looked in the mirror."

Apollo shivers, cutting at the hair. It all sounds achingly familiar.

"You know, Forehead, maybe it's poetic justice, that he never really left my head." Klavier muses- but then he's scowling, narrowing his eyes at his own reflection. "After all, I did model it after _him_."

The silence is back.

Apollo doesn't know what to say. He knows the feeling too well.

"Don't blame yourself," Apollo finally says, quiet and hesitant. He stares blankly at the hair he's cutting, the glint of the scissors against blonde hair.

Apollo knows what it's like to watch a hero fall. He's seen his idols reduced to the shoddy covers they always were, felt the emptiness that always followed. The pain is still fresh in his mind; scratches that he doesn't know will ever heal.

"I idolized him too, remember?" Apollo reminds Klavier, cutting an errant lock. "I'm… I'm not entirely sure if it's wrong to remember who we thought he was. I mean, I thought that he was a just, intelligent man. Just because _he_ wasn't doesn't mean that _we_ can't be, right?"

Klavier considers, eyes softening in the mirror as his shoulders relax. "Ja. You're right."

"He's gone now, Klavier, and we're both fine." Apollo says steadily, continuing to snip at Klavier's hair. "It's all thanks to you."

"I…" The emotions are welling up in Apollo's throat, he's remembering the _relief_ and the _pride_ of seeing Klavier standing there when it seemed all hope had been lost, beating back Kristoph like it was second nature. "I can't imagine anybody doing what you did then. You're the bravest person I know."

Klavier's smiling now, gentle and kind. "Danke, Apollo."

Apollo exhales, taking a look at the whole haircut. Alright. Klavier's hair looks clean and uniform now, an even line around his head.

"Done." Apollo says, only able to feel relieved as he lowers the scissors. Okay, it doesn't look that bad. Not professional, but better than what Apollo was expecting.

Klavier's smile only grows as he tilts his head, studying his new hairstyle in the mirror. "Ach, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Apollo waves a hand, blushing. "Oh, it's no problem. I mean, I just made it even-"

"Not the haircut, Apollo." Klavier explains, complete with a little sigh in his voice. He chuckles, looking equal parts incredulous and amused.

Apollo feels his cheeks burn. "O-oh, right. Well, you're welcome. I'm here for you, you know that?"

Klavier nods, and his face relaxes with gratitude.

"Love you." Apollo leans forwards and mumbles the words, pressing his face into Klavier's drying hair. It smells nice, like cinnamon.

Klavier tilts his head back slowly, craning his neck and reaching around for Apollo. "Love you too, Herr Forehead."

Apollo leans over and lets them meet around the back of the chair, meeting the hand grabbing for his and squeezing. There's hot breath on Apollo's face, vaguely minty, and Klavier's lips are brushing against his.

Apollo closes his eyes, pressing back into Klavier. It's nice. The kiss is sweet and brief, nearly chaste. It's not classically Klavier, but Apollo doesn't mind. It's good enough to have Klavier back, to see him smiling again.

"How do you feel?" Apollo asks in a shaky breath. He really hopes he's helped, even if it is just a little bit.

Klavier smiles into Apollo's lips, reaching back to touch his newly cut hair. He fingers the tips thoughtfully, like he's feeling each individual strand. "Like… Kristoph's finally gone for good."

Apollo smiles back, leaning his forehead against Klavier's. He can't disagree.

It all feels better, now that Klavier's said it. It's easier to believe that Kristoph is gone now that Klavier does too, easier to remember the words in Klavier's light accent.

 _It's really over._

* * *

 **fin**

 **alright! 3 updates!**

 **First off, I want to say thank you for making it all the way to the end! It means a lot to me, so seriously, thank you.**

 **Secondly, I want to give a huge shout out to Nessie McCormick, a spectacular and awe-inspiring artist who did fanart of this thing! The new cover is hers, and it and another piece are posted on her tumblr. Seriously, check it out, she's a genius at this stuff.**

 **Thirdly, judging from the feedback I'm getting, people are as much into Klavier whump as I am. For some reason this reminded me of this super dark kink meme fill I was working on, so now I'm probably going to turn it into a multichapter thing. (the working title is "Actual Yandere Phoenix Wright". be very afraid.)**

 **So… uh… thanks again! Have a great day!**


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